


I Need A Fix Cause I'm Going Down

by larryshares



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Flower Child Harry, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sad Louis, basically harry is a hippie who smokes a lot of pot and loves everybody, louis is tired of living and doesn't know why but harry makes him feel things again, this starts out really cute and then it gets really angsty towards the end oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 158,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryshares/pseuds/larryshares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis has been dealing with depression for as long as he can remember. he doesn't expect green eyes and toothy grins and sweet petals in messy curls to save him, but they're doing a hell of a lot more to help than regular therapy and prescribed pills ever have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enchanted to meet you

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello! this is my contribution to the flower!harry trend because i am just hopelessly obsessed with that boy in those damn crowns~
> 
> warnings for future chapters:  
> smut, louston, side ziam, a bit of gryles, mentions of harry/michael, drug & alcohol use, verbal/emotional + slight sexual abuse, and lots of suicidal thoughts/behavior. 
> 
> i've fought my own battle with mental illness for a long time, so i realize that there's the possibility of this being triggering at parts. i've done my best not to make it that way, but triggers are different for everyone, so i apologize ahead of time for any discomfort. i'll include individual tw's at the beginning of heavy chapters.
> 
> disclaimers:  
> anyone with a celebrity name does not belong to me, no matter how much i wish they did. :C  
> title from the beatles' "happiness is a warm gun"
> 
> and lastly, [this fic has now been translated to russian](http://ficbook.net/readfic/1999684) for anyone who might find that an easier read. 
> 
>  
> 
> okay, enough of my rambling! on with it! i know this is just the first chapter but i'm really interested in getting feedback so please don't be afraid of the comment button! :)

Louis doesn’t remember exactly when the depression set in. He thinks it was around the time he started high school, but that was nearly seven years ago, and he doesn’t like to admit it’s been that long. There have been short periods of satisfaction, wherein he feels like himself again, has things to look forward to and get excited about, doesn’t fantasize about crashing his car into a brick wall or driving it off a cliff on a daily basis, but mostly his life has passed in a blur of sluggishness and self-loathing and suicidal urges.

He goes to school and stares at the contrast of the words against the background of educational power points, he listens to teachers drone on about things that hold little relevance to real life, his pen glides across paper and records the notes, but he doesn’t really absorb much of anything anymore. Once upon a time, his shelving job at the library made him feel slightly better about things. He liked to use reading as an escape from the real world, so being surrounded by books all day was ideal, but the more the sickness set in, the less he was able to enjoy it. He goes out with his mates sometimes, in an attempt to distract himself from the dreary thoughts making home in his head, but his eyes are distant and his attempts at conversation are awkward and half-hearted when it’s so hard to truly care about anything.

Possibly the worst part of it is he knows he doesn’t have a real reason to be this way, so on top of it all, he hates himself for being such an ungrateful little shit. His therapist tells him otherwise, says there’s no “real reason” for depression, that it’s common for people in all walks of life, it’s just a chemical imbalance in his brain he has no control over, blah blah blah. All he sees is that he’s 21 years old with a steady income, two years of Uni under his belt, and he gets to bunk in a cozy flat with three of the best guys he’s ever known. So why is that not enough for him? Why does he constantly feel like something’s lacking, like there’s no point of even getting out of bed in the mornings? This should be the prime of his life, and he’s tortured daily by the knowledge that he’s letting it waste away.

He really does live comfortably, so to anyone on the outside it probably seems like his life is on track. His problem is that he has no idea where that track is headed, what he wants to do with his future or where he pictures himself ten, five, even two years from now, and he still isn’t entirely sure he wants to be around to find out.

He wakes every day with the heavy weight of dread pinning him to the mattress, coaxing him into ditching all his responsibilities and just going back to sleep. Most of the time, it doesn't take much convincing. The days that he gives into it are beginning to outweigh the days he doesn’t, and because of it he’s stopped attending school and is hanging on his last thread at work. Maybe he should be more concerned, considering Uni is almost a requirement to make anything of your life nowadays, or that his job is his only source of income so he needs it to keep surviving; and maybe the worrying over these facts should be enough to make him haul his arse out of bed every morning, but then maybe the world shouldn’t be so hard and stressful and maybe his room shouldn’t be so safe and familiar and inviting.

On the days that he is able to will himself to actively participate in life, he does it by taking comfort in the idea that at any moment, he can choose to make it his last. _If things get to be too much, I can always kill myself_ he keeps the reminder tucked away in the back of his mind and clings to it to get him through every grueling moment of longing and emptiness and fear. Longing for something more, something exciting, something to shake him up and make him feel alive again, the great big reason to keep on living. Emptiness because he doesn’t have it yet, and each day he can feel himself getting more and more tired of waiting for it to come along. Fear because what if it never does?

He sees the flatness every day in the people around him. Retail workers stuck at the same miserable job until retirement, people trapped in loveless marriages, homeless men taking shelter in dark alleys, burnouts with nothing left but apathy behind their empty eyes. He fears becoming one of them, yet knows he already is. It’s just a matter of time before he decides enough is enough, but something still keeps him fighting every day and most of the time he really wishes it didn’t. He wishes he could smother that basic human instinct for survival and just have the courage to let go of consciousness for good. Weekly therapy combined with daily medication is barely working to keep him interested in this world and he’s not sure how much longer he can stand it.

Until one day, he finds something that works a whole lot better.

\--

He gets the idea on the way to his morning shift when he spots what he assumes is a cat shelter, smoothly blended into a neighborhood area on his usual route. It’s one of many in a row of duplexes, set in a standard looking home with two stories and four large windows framed by paint-chipped blue shutters. He must’ve driven past it a million times without noticing, but today there’s a little sign stuck in the yard that reads ‘Calder Cat Haven’ in elegant crimson script.

He thinks of his sister, Lottie, who’s been whining to their mother about getting a cat ever since she learned to speak.

There isn’t much in the world that he can muster the energy to care about, but his family is one of the things that comes naturally. Especially Lottie. Despite their age difference, he’s always felt the closest to her. She was the first person he confided in about his illness, the one who convinced him to get help for it even when she was barely old enough to understand what it meant, and she’s one of the constant things that keeps him here. The pain he knows it would cause her (and everyone else he loves) to find out one day that he was successful in his attempt is sometimes enough to keep his morbid thoughts at bay.

Their mother always turns down Lottie’s pleas with the excuse that she isn’t responsible enough to take care of an animal, but she’ll be thirteen in a few days and he’s certain she can handle it. Besides, he’s been putting off shopping for her present due to lack of time and energy. He knows she’d be thrilled to finally have a pet to call her own, and figures how could their mum deny it this time, with the evidence of her rapidly maturing daughter staring her straight in the face?

He parks his car on the street across from the building, deciding it can’t hurt to check it out at least.

A bell chimes on the door when it swings open and he finds that the place is just as quaint and homey on the inside as it is on the out. Sunlight pours in through the sheer drapes hanging in front of the windows, there’s a worn secretary desk at the front of the room, a doorway that looks like it leads to a living area, another closed door across from it, and a large staircase on the far wall. The floor is hardwood and the bottom of Louis’ Vans squeak against it as he lets himself in.

The boy sitting behind the desk snaps his head up at the sound of the ringing. “Hello, welcome to Calder Cat Haven!” He says, way too bright and cheerful for seven am. “How can I help you today?”

Louis’ breath hitches as he approaches the desk and gets a closer look at the boy; the word ‘stunning’ is drawn to the forefront of his mind. The guy’s eyes are big and sparkly and his skin is soft plush and pink blush and his hair is dark and wild, curling out from his head in all directions. There are specs of muted rose dotted in a ring around it, and he realizes as the scent of cherry blossoms wafts into his nose that they’re actually flower petals.

For a moment, he forgets where he is. The boy is staring up at him from his seat, clearly expecting a response, and Louis has to mentally remind himself that he is at a cat shelter to see about finding one to bring home to sister for her birthday.

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for a cat for my sister. It’s her birthday soon, and she’s always wanted one.” He manages to explain.

“Sure, is there are specific breed you’re interested in?” The boy smiles politely and Louis is not staring at his temptingly full lips or the dimples that crater his cheeks at all.

“I’m not picky.” He says honestly.

Flower Boy nods, and again Louis is hit with the sugary smell of his hair.

“Right. Cat or kitten?” His voice is thick and deep, but his accent is the smoothest melody of a classical tune and Louis doesn’t understand how the two qualities can even coexist like that, but he finds himself uncharacteristically glad that they do.

“I don’t know, I’m just sort of, looking for one that feels… right, I guess.” He shrugs indifferently. Thanks to years of hiding behind a mask of hollow smiles and false ‘I’m fine’s, he’s almost perfected the art of keeping his feelings hidden, but he sincerely hopes he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels right now.

The boy nods again, jotting something down on one of the many papers scattered across the table space in front of him. When he looks back up, he is still smiling and Louis thinks that maybe he wouldn’t hate mornings as much as he does if he had that to look forward to every day.

“Perfect, you can follow me this way.” The boy says as he stands. He’s a few inches taller than Louis, and that makes him wonder for the first time how old he is. He guesses maybe about his own age. He _hopes_ maybe about his own age.

The angel grabs a set of keys from the corner of the desk and crosses the floor in swift strides. As Louis follows behind him, his eyes roam the whole of his body, noticing how long and lean his legs are, the slight protrusion of his modestly round bum through his black skinny jeans, the faint outline of the muscle in his back through the thin cotton t-shirt stretched over his torso, the thickness of his neck, the way his curls bounce around his head with every step, and the contrast of the light blossoms against it. He’s overcome with the urge to reach out and feel every detail, not just touch but _feel_ , to spend hours tracing every outline of his biceps and caressing the curves of his legs and breathing in the scent of springtime from his fringe because it’s the first time in a long time that he’s been this completely marveled by something and he wants to relish in it as much as he can.

The door shuts behind them, effectively snapping him out of his fantasy. They’re in what looks like a standard bedroom, complete with a queen sized bed, a couple dressers pushed against the walls; one with a large, boxy TV sat on it. The far wall is just a huge, sliding glass door that’s left halfway open, and he can see outside to the visible patio set carefully arranged on a cement space. There are a few flowering bushes thriving along the picket fence that frames the lush lawn.

Cats are everywhere; a collage of different shades of blacks and whites and grays and browns and oranges. A good bit of them are curled up on the comforter of the bed, some solitary and others piled together in groups or pairs, and they all lift their heads to peer at the two of them as they enter. Some are preoccupied with a toy or wrestling with each other on the carpet, and some are outside playing in the grass or lazily draped over the cushions on the wicker furniture. A few have come to greet the two of them, purring like motorboats as they twist their bodies around and between both pairs of legs.

“Hey Paul, Shrimp, Marie!” The boy grins, addressing each creature by name and bending to pick up the one with dark fur, save for a little patch of snow on its chest. “I missed you guys too.” He coos, letting the thing nuzzle its head into the nook of his neck.

“Swanky,” Louis says of the scenery. He’s never been to any sort of animal shelter before and hadn’t known what to expect, but this seems out of the ordinary.

“Yeah, that’s why I love this place so much.” Says Curly, grinning a painful smile that looks way too big for his face, but it’s so adorable that Louis swears he actually feels his heart miss a beat. “It’s not all horrible and sad like a normal shelter, with animals trapped in cages or behind plexi-glass windows. They’re comfortable. It’s like an actual home for them. Permanent if it needs to be, cause we don’t put them down here, either.”

Louis nods sincerely, wading in the waves of passion he can feel radiating from him when he speaks. In just those few sentences, he can tell it’s something the boy truly cares about, and a hint of emotion stirs inside him as he wonders when was the last time he’s felt that strongly about anything besides the desire to not exist anymore?

He flicks his eyes down to the cat purring around his shins, hoping to feel for it the way this guy seems to. It’s meager in size compared to others; he thinks it could probably pass for a kitten. Its coat is soft apricot and it stares up at him with wide olive eyes.

“That’s Shrimp. I named him.” Cherry Blossom says. “Mostly cause of his size, but also his color, and the way his tail is so poufy. He kind of looks like one, don’t you think?”

Louis watches the cat’s ridiculously fluffy tail as it flicks around his leg, and agrees he can see the resemblance.

“I think he wants to be held.” Says Curly; an invitation.

He really doesn’t care about animals that much, or at all, really. Not that they’re a nuisance to him or anything, but they’ve always just been irrelevant in his life. He recalls wishing he had a dog when he was younger, but the older he got, the more important things he had to worry about, like the pressure to make good marks and get a degree and find a career and pay for rent and gas and food and clothes and essentially be independent, eventually settle down and raise a family. The weight that came with watching everyone around succeed at all of it seemingly so easily, while he just stood and drowned, suffocated by the idea that no matter what he did it wouldn’t be enough, consumed his mind until he eventually forgot about the trivial concern of not having a pet to call his own.

But here, standing with the cute, fragrant boy urging him to pick up the tiny feline, he wants to like animals. Especially cats. He wants to see them through the wondrous green windows of someone who clearly adores them.

Hesitantly, he crouches down and lifts the creature into his arms, following Flower Boy’s example by cradling it like a newborn baby. It vibrates happily against his chest, and he stares down at its contented expression; eyes shut comfortably, mouth bearing a hint of a smile, if that’s even possible for cats to do. It is quite endearing, he has to admit.

“Hey, cool ink!” Angel Face says suddenly, leaning over to further inspect the tattoo on Louis’ upper bicep.

It used to be a sloppily done heart design that he got on a drunken dare, but he recently had it covered by a larger heart, darkened around the edges, and then because he felt like turning it into something meaningful, he decided to add in a valiant stag head big enough to frame the heart with its antlers. He’s very happy with the way it came out. To him it symbolizes strength, power, and bravery; all things that have to be evoked daily in order to fight the uphill battle against mental illness.

“Thanks, I just got it done a couple weeks ago, actually. Can you believe it’s a cover-up?” He gives a slight but proud smile.

“No way, what was it before?” The cat, tired of being held at the awkward angle, wiggles its way out of the boy’s arms and lands swiftly on the floor. It sits and begins to groom itself at their feet.

“This awful heart-shaped thing. It was a drunken mistake,” Louis rolls his eyes at his own stupidity. Alcohol and drugs sometimes worked to soothe the near constant needles of depression, but he had a bit of a problem with overdoing it sometimes. “For some reason, I agreed to let my equally trashed tattoo-artist friend practice on me one night. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

One corner of the boy’s mouth turns up into a sly half-smirk. “You weren’t, if you were plastered. Do you even remember getting it?”

“Sort of.” Louis absentmindedly strokes the animal still in his arms. “He claims I’m the only reason it came out bad, that I was moving a lot, and I do remember him telling me to ‘stop fucking squirming’ a few times, but that’s about it.”

Flower Boy laughs, and the sound of it makes Louis feel as though he’s just injected concentrated sunshine into his veins. “Well, it must have been meant to be, cause that’s an ace cover-up.”

“Thanks,” Louis says again, “I guess that’s one way to think of it.”

After a short pause, he tacks on, “I like your sparrows.” as he nods towards the half-visible pair of birds on the boy’s collarbones, facing each other with their wings spread.

“Thanks, they’re one of my favorites.” He grins that stupid, too-wide smile again.

“Yeah, I noticed you have a bunch. What’s that on your arm?” Louis asks, and Curly lifts the sleeve of his shirt to fully expose his bicep. Louis has to make a conscious effort to keep from salivating over the definition of his muscles as he asses the art. There’s a rather intricate looking pirate ship as the focus, surrounded by a bunch of other random objects and words. They all look sloppy and eclectic, yet somehow still good enough to lick.

“This one’s a ship, and I’ve got a bunch of nails here, and a heart, and I won’t bore you by listing them all. There’s about twenty on this arm, you can have a look if you want.” He lifts his arm to showcase the ones on his inner skin. Through his shirt, Louis can make out the faint shadows of another cluster on the side of his rib cage, too.

“How many have you got total?” Louis asks as his cat takes its turn to break free. It squirms until his grip falters and then springs onto the nearby bed. He brushes off some tiny tan fibers left behind on his shirt, and notices he kind of misses the warmth from its body.

“Somewhere around sixty or so; I stopped keeping track.” The boy shrugs.

“Do they all have meanings?”

“Some do, but well over half don’t.” He admits. “I mostly get them on whims. It’s addicting, so a lot of the time whenever I get the urge for a new one I’ll just go to my regular place and tell them to do whatever they feel like.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in genuine interest, a rare emotion for him. He seems to be having a lot of those today.

“You just get… any random thing done? And you don’t worry about it being something you don’t want or having it come out bad or regretting it or anything?”

Curly shrugs. “I trust my artists.”

“Cool.” Louis breathes incredulously, actually meaning it. He admires anyone who could ever be so nonchalant about something as permanent as a tattoo. He has a few more of his own, but they’ve all been carefully planned and replanned and muddled over for months before actually being brought to life. He can’t imagine ever getting a random design permanently engraved on his skin for life, however short his may end up being.

“So, do you want to meet some of the others?” Curly asks as he crosses the room to the backyard, and Louis realizes he forgot where they were again. It’s easy to do that when his attention is otherwise occupied by silky skin and forest eyes.

“Don’t you have a front desk to watch?” He teases, following the boy’s lead anyway.

Outside, he can see that there’s an enormous chain link fence built around the yard in a box shape; it must be at least twenty feet high. He understands the necessity, but thinks it’s a little strange to realize he’s standing in a giant animal cage.

“Nah, Eleanor’s around. That’s actually her job anyway; I was just there while she stepped out for a minute.” He explains. “ _This_ is my job.” He makes a gesture to the general space around them, “I’m Harry, by the way. Technically a ‘caregiver’, but that’s just a fancy way of saying I get to play with cats all day.”

He sits down in the grass and crosses his legs and the halo of petals shifts on his head as he lands. When he reaches to adjust it, a sleek, gray cat strides over to sniff at him. It sticks its rear end in the air and flicks its tail as it claws at the ground, stretching, and then promptly crawls into his lap and curls up in it. It’s purring loudly as Harry starts stroking its fur and Louis takes a seat next to him, trying to ignore the insane levels of adorable the scene is.

He suddenly feels brave and fiery, the way he gets on good days; how he remembers being before the storm cloud started its relentless hovering over him.

“Really wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to be into pussy.” He blurts before he can really think about it.

Harry bursts out laughing, and Louis can’t help the grin that spreads across his face in satisfaction at having elicited such a dramatic reaction from such a beautiful creature.

When Harry’s caught his breath again he asks, “It’s the flowers, isn’t it?”

“That might have something to do with it.” Louis says, absently picking out handfuls of grass, “Most divers probably wouldn’t opt for a halo of petals as their choice accessory.”

“Actually my mum owns a flower shop, so I can vouch for how untrue that is. We’ve got a few lovely lesbian ladies who frequent for their crowns.” Harry grins and Louis fights back a smirk, somehow catching the vibe that Harry knows what he’s trying to find out for sure and is purposefully dancing around the answer. The bastard.

“Forgive me, I should’ve clarified, _male_ divers.”

“Eloquent wording.” Harry compliments sarcastically.

“Would you prefer something like carpet munchers, or maybe vagitarians?” Louis is surprising even himself with how comfortable he is bantering back and forth with an almost perfect stranger.

Harry lets out another bark of laughter. “You’ve got a bit of a dirty mouth.”

Louis shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“You couldn’t just say ‘straight guys’?” Harry asks.

“It honestly didn’t even occur to me.” Louis blinks. “I guess that would’ve been more appropriate, though. Oops.”

Again he laughs, cool rain on a summer day, and Louis thinks he’d do anything just to keep him smiling like that forever.

The cat he was holding before saunters over seemingly out of nowhere and gives his arm a quick sniff before closing its eyes and nudging its head against him. He reaches over to scratch between its ears and the motorboat starts up and makes him feel weirdly fuzzy inside.

“They’re nice, though. I like them. The flowers, I mean.” His voice goes soft again with shyness and sincerity.

“Thanks.” Harry smiles and it’s genuine warmth that Louis feels in the very pit of his stomach. 

“He seems to like _you_ ,” Harry observes after a short pause.

Louis can’t help but smile slightly as he runs his fingers over the creamy coat of Shrimp’s flexible backbone. The animal continues purring, somehow eagerly, clearly enjoying the attention. He is really freaking cute.

“I like him, too.” He admits. “And I know Lottie would adore him.”

“He’s a charmer.” Harry beams with pride, “I can bet the only reason he’s still here is ‘cause no one ever wants to see the cats. Most everyone who comes in is looking for a kitten, so a lot of the ones in this room end up staying here for good.”

“The kittens are in another room then? Left abandoned and alone by their irresponsible caregiver who’d rather waste time chatting up potential adopters than pay them any attention?” Louis watches Harry’s amused smirk spread across his face and highlight his dimples again before he’s even finished with the sentence.

“Someone else is watching them now. I think it’s James today.” He says. “We take shifts looking after them, but honestly, I prefer the cats.”

“Why is that?” Louis asks just as Shrimp finally climbs into his lap and makes himself comfortable.

Harry heaves a hyperbolic sigh. “The kittens are adorable and I love them, don’t get me wrong, but they’re so _rowdy_. They have to be watched more closely because they get into everything, and there’s so many of them that at least one always wants something. If it’s not food, it’s water or a toy or their mum or to be picked up or petted or whatever. It’s a lot of work to deal with them, but in here it’s basically like getting paid to chill in the sun and mingle with pals, and that’s a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Louis nods in agreement. “Sign me up.”

Harry sports a satisfied grin. “Does that mean they’ve won you over then? I could tell you weren’t a cat person from the moment you walked in.”

“Is it that obvious?” Louis is still running his fingers over the fur lump curled up on him.

“Probably not to everyone, but I spend every day dealing with cat fanatics, sort of am one myself honestly, so I can pick up on people’s vibes and differentiate between the true fans and the posers.” Harry explains, stroking the cat in his lap as if to add emphasis.

Louis snickers at the ridiculous analogy.

“Not much of an animal person at all, really, but this little one might be changing that.” He says, though in reality he knows it isn’t entirely the cats that won him over. Shrimp’s button nose and innocent eyes are really cute, but Harry’s pillow lips and dimpled smile and unruly curls are infinitely cuter.

“Score!” Harry dramatically pumps his fist into the air at his victory.

The air falls silent for a moment, and Louis is searching for something to say that doesn’t sound weird or make things awkward. Usually he prefers a lack of words to be exchanged between him and whomever he’s with, because it means he doesn’t have to feign interest in the topic at hand. But with Harry, he wants the conversation to flow easily. He could listen to the slightly raspy edge of his accent till his ears shrivel up and fall off.

“You’re not wearing any shoes.” He notices out loud, catching a glimpse of Harry’s feet for the first time. He inwardly recoils with embarrassment as he realizes just how much he’s been absorbed in the boy’s glowing facial features, that he hadn’t even noticed he was barefoot until now.

“Yeah, I don’t really like them.” Harry says simply.

“You don’t like shoes?” Louis asks, raising a brow.

“They’re uncomfortable.” Harry defends, “Without the barrier, my feet can breathe. And don’t laugh, but this way I’m more connected to the earth. I like being able to feel the ground beneath me.”

Louis doesn’t lower his brow as he stares at Harry’s feet. They’re big, the soles look tough from where he sits, and there’s a faint layer of dirt on them, noticeable only because he’s looking for it. He can admit it sounds stupidly silly, yet he has no desire to laugh at all because he finds himself wanting to kiss the tips of every single one of Harry’s toes and he doesn’t even have a thing for feet.

“How very sixties of you.” He says absently, still staring at Harry’s feet, until the boy’s laughter breaks his trance.

“Do you ever wear them, then?” Louis wonders.

“Not if I can get away with it.” Says Harry, and Louis detects a subtle dash of pride in his voice, like getting away with it is something he enjoys. “I really only wear them on special occasions. You’d be surprised how little attention it draws. Most of the time no one even notices; it took you this long!”

He actually doesn’t find that hard to believe. Harry is tall and broad and beautiful and his eyes are freshly polished gemstones and he laughs like crystal clear water cascading out of a magic fountain and smells like a new day in the middle of spring. There’s a lot more to notice about him than what he’s wearing, or in this case not wearing, on his feet.

“What happens when people do notice?” He wants to know.

“I tell them to kiss my pretty little ass.” Harry says matter-of-factly, and this time it’s Louis’ turn to laugh out loud.

“That’s cute.” He blurts and his cheeks flush immediately and he no sooner looks down to focus on petting the cat in his lap, trying to cover his mistake by making it look like he was talking about the animal.

No such luck, though.

“You are, too.” Harry dimples and Louis has to pretend it doesn’t feel like his heart is about to burst out of his chest and start belting out show tunes at any minute.

“The cat’s got us both beat.” He says, easily drawing the attention away from himself.

“You’ve settled on him then, yeah? You guys seem to be getting pretty cozy with each other.”

“I don’t think he’d even let me bring home anyone but him.” He guesses.

“I may have to agree with you on that, it doesn’t look like you’ve really got a choice at this point.” Harry is positively beaming again. “If you want to follow me back to the front desk, we’ll get his papers all set up and you can bring him home straight after.”

“Oh, actually,” It hadn’t even occurred to him that the sooner he settled on a cat, the sooner he’d have to leave. Suddenly he’s reminded that he was on his way to work before he got to chatting with Harry. He weighs being trapped in a quiet, stuffy building with a bunch of old ladies as company, against sunshine and fresh air and bouncy hair and deep laughter and playing hooky is an instant decision. He’s not ready to leave this yet, this little slice of happiness. “I can’t take him home today. I’d rather surprise her on her birthday, which isn’t till this weekend and my mates would never let him stay at our place.”

“You room with other animal prudes?” Harry assumes.

“No, I think Liam has a dog back at his parents’.” Louis considers for a moment and then adds, “Our space just isn’t big enough to accommodate. How about if I come back to get him in a couple days?”

“You’re not gonna change your mind, are you?” Skepticism dots Harry’s tone and Louis has to wonder how many others have actually done that before. “Cause now I’ll be expecting to see you again, so if I don’t you’ll make me very upset.” He pouts his bottom lip out and Louis feels a frenzy of butterflies take flight in his stomach. Did he seriously just suggest that he wants to him again?

“Of course I’m not changing my mind, this little fur ball is my ticket to the Brother of The Year award. And how could I resist that face?” He doesn’t need to clarify that he’s not talking about the cat anymore.

Harry’s pout morphs into the deathly wide grin again. “You can’t. Many have tried, none have triumphed. All are powerless to my adorable charm.”

“Hey now, don’t sell yourself short or anything,” His tone drips with sarcasm that makes Harry laugh like wind chimes in the breeze.

They end up rationalizing that Louis should spend more time getting to know Shrimp before deciding to adopt him, just to be absolutely sure he’s a right fit, so he spends the rest of his day shadowing Harry. Thankfully weekdays are slow, so there isn’t much actual work for the curly haired wonder to do. The morning is wasted lying on soft green blades, chatting and chuckling about any and everything as they stare up at the tufts of cotton that float lazily by. Occasionally, they entertain a cat by throwing it toys or letting it wrestle with their hands or lay on their chest, but mostly they’re too focused on each other to pay much attention to anything else.

He learns that Harry is nineteen and most days he works at the shelter but sometimes he helps out at his mum’s flower shop, too. He dropped out of school in grade ten, when he realized it’s an excellent place to be if you’re trying to learn how to always do what you’re told and never think outside of the box, and his mother is the kind of person that accepted that without question. He’s smart without school though, and thoughtful and creative and Louis learns this as he talks about his hobbies; cooking, gardening, yoga, he dabbles in painting and sewing and Louis figures he can also probably play a few instruments and speak forty different languages and reunite the Koreas because he’s that amazing.

After noon, they switch to the kitten room to be babysitters for a couple hours and as they sit in the middle of the floor for playtime, Louis actually _giggles_ at the sight of the tiny, fluffy creatures crawling and climbing all over Harry’s large body frame, mewing excitedly. It’s quite possibly the most heartwarming thing he’s ever seen, and he’s actually happy. It feels weird to even be able to think that after so long of being only content even on his best days, but he is. Lazing around with Harry, listening to him talk, making him laugh, subtly studying the details of his face and learning all his different expressions and how to make each one appear is the most fun he’s had in months.

Before either of them can even wonder where the day went, Harry’s shift is over and they’re saying goodbye until next time. Louis can’t remember a time he’s ever felt so light and free, like his body is weightless and one wrong step against the wind could send him floating off into space.

For the rest of the day he waits for the crushing darkness and dread to creep back over him, but it never comes. Even when he’s at home lying under his covers that night, alone with his own thoughts, when it’s usually at its worst, all he feels is like he’s walking on air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, please please please comment with your thoughts, i want to hear from you! :)


	2. Never thought that I'd catch this lovebug again

Louis wakes up the next day and he can swear the scent of flowers is still stuck in his nose. He doesn’t pull the covers back over his head like he usually would; instead he just lies in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, gauging his mood.

Something is different. He doesn’t exactly feel excitement for the day ahead, but he isn’t completely dreading it either, which is a near first.

Like usual, he plays with the idea of ending his life, just to see if this calm feeling is real. He imagines crawling out of bed and over to the window, looking down at the pavement stories beneath him, teasing the urge to jump. He wonders if it would even do the job.

His stomach twists at the idea, and he decides today is definitely not the day.

He flips the duvet off him and scratches at his scalp as he sits up in bed. He glances at the clock to find that it’s only 8am, an early morning for him considering he doesn’t have to be up for work anymore. His boss had called on his way home yesterday, sounding strained and displeased as she gave him the news of his termination. He can’t say he wasn’t expecting it, with all his unexcused absences lately, but he also can’t say he even really cares. The same is true for his Uni classes, too. He can’t remember the last time he even showed up and has no intention of breaking that streak today. He considers it a form of self-care. Miserable as he is now, schoolwork on top of it all would cause more damage than it’s worth.

Sometimes when he wakes up, the bed across from him is full and today is one of those times. He can see tufts of blonde hair splayed out on the pillow and the squished features of the familiar face against it, so he’s careful not to disturb his sleeping roommate as he heaves himself out of bed.

Technically Niall’s name isn’t on the lease because he bunks with friends in the student dorms a lot, but he crashes here often enough that Louis has an extra bed in his room for him. He seems to stick around more when he knows Louis is going through a particularly rough patch.

He catches himself in the mirror on his way to the kitchen; light mocha tufts sticking out in all angles, a faint five o clock shadow around his chin, and he briefly wonders what Harry looks like when he first wakes up in the morning. His hair is already a wild mess of curls, so Louis can only imagine how distraught it would be after a night of tossing and turning.

Thinking of Harry makes the memories of the previous day come flooding back and he replays nearly every moment in his head, clinging to details like the cherry stench of pastel petals and the slight rasp of a bellowing laugh; things he couldn’t have made up, things that remind him it wasn’t just a really fantastic dream, it actually happened, and there actually exists a boy that beautiful in real life.

“What the fuck are you so on about?” Zayn asks when Louis strides into the kitchen with an actual smile stretching his face.

“I’m not?” Louis plays dumb.

“Bullshit, haven’t seen you smile like that in ages.” Zayn observes, taking a sip of his morning tea, “And you’re up before noon on your day off.” Louis is notorious for sleeping well into the afternoon whenever the chance is given to him, sometimes even taking naps later in the day, too. Mental illness is draining like that.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Zayn why he’s feeling up, it’s just that he’s sure there’s no reason to. He knows that tomorrow when he returns to the shelter for the adoption, he’ll never see Harry again unless he either decides to bring home more cats or just hangs around the place like a lost little child; neither of which he’d ever actually do. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for more to come of their meeting, but guys like Harry have no use for guys like himself, so the better part of his brain refuses to turn off the neon reminder that after tomorrow, the best he’ll get out of this is a polite passing smile should they ever run into each other elsewhere.

So really, it’s pointless to let anyone know how enchanted he is by nonsensical curls and full lips over a sparkling grin when it’s not going to last anyway.

“I got fired, actually,” He says as a distraction.

“Christ Lou, did you take another sick day? Have they finally had enough?”

Louis winces at the truth of his inquiries. Even though his reason for taking the day off was different than usual, Zayn is still right. He knew he’d been cutting it close with all his unexcused absences lately, yet he chose to opt out again without even batting an eyelash, all because there were much prettier ones luring him in the opposite direction. At the time, he’d been too starry-eyed to worry about the weight of his decision, but now the guilt of his own hardheadedness is settling in.

His job was his only source of income, and it occurrs to him that he won’t be able to pay his part of the rent (his mates will pick up the slack though; a reason for more guilt), and he’ll have to be careful with gas and groceries until he can find something else, a process that will definitely take months and makes his head hurt just thinking about all the applications and interviews and disappointments. He’s beating himself up over his own stupidity, wondering if he’ll ever learn to take his responsibilities seriously.

“Sorry mate,” Zayn notices the disturbance. “But if it were me I’d have fired you a long time ago. Cheers to making it this far.”

“Thanks,” Louis rolls his eyes. “I guess it’s just as well; I didn’t enjoy it much anymore anyway.” He shrugs, trying to convince himself there is some sort of bright side to it.

“Get over it. Work’s not about enjoyment.” Zayn’s retort is hypocritical, considering he’s a well-requested artist at a thriving tattoo parlor in the city.

“Oh fuck off, you love your job.” He snaps.

“Yeah, but I got lucky. Who else do you know that does?” Zayn challenges.

Louis thinks of candy cloves in curly hair.

“Niall,” He says instead, remembering the happy Irishman’s late night bar hours and how he gets to sleep in as long as he wants every day.

“What’s your point? He’d love a dead spider if you poured beer on it.” Zayn says, and there’s really no denying that.

“Liam,” Louis offers.

“Liam likes superheroes and nerdy shit, yeah, but you know he hates dealing with the right geeks that visit the shop every day.” A job at a comic store seemed a good idea, until he actually got hired and found out that he’s not nearly as big of a fan as he thought. More than half the customers he sees regularly eat, breathe, _live_ superheroes, and Liam’s always willing to share stories (complaints) about every obnoxious character he meets.

Louis has nothing else to combat with. He thinks again of mentioning Harry and his criminally adorable passion for animals, but keeps his mouth shut. He can’t let himself get used to talking about Harry when he isn’t even a constant. He can’t let himself believe it meant anything. It was one day, he reminds himself, adding that Harry would probably hang out with anyone who happened to stroll in on a slow day and it was a mere coincidence that it happened to be Louis yesterday.

“So, you’re cheery then because you’ve not got to work anymore?” Zayn’s smug with the victory of stumping him.

“I’m not cheery.” He maintains.

Zayn takes an exaggerated sip from the mug in his hands, nodding. Louis can tell he doesn’t believe him, but Zayn’s always been good about knowing when to fold.

“Alright then. Least it seems whatever you ditched for was worth it.”

“It was,” Louis is a bit too eager to change the subject. “I went shopping for Lottie’s birthday.”

“Can’t believe you’re just now getting around to it,” Zayn chuckles lightly. “Didjya settle on anything?”

“Maybe shopping’s the wrong word. It’s a cat.” He admits.

“She’ll be thrilled.” Zayn says, smiling. “Your mum’ll have a fit, though.”

He shrugs. “Probably, but it’s not _her_ birthday.”

Zayn laughs, “Love you, bro,” He says, playfully ruffling Louis’ hair like a child, as he strides past him and out of the room to start getting ready for his own day.

Regardless of Louis’ new-found free time, the rest of the boys do still have to work. Zayn and Liam are out of the flat within the next hour and Niall rolls out of bed mid-afternoon, catching Louis on the sofa eating crisps straight from the bag and watching reality show reruns. His feet are propped on the coffee table and he’s still in his boxer shorts.

“Breakfast?” He holds the bag out and Niall sleepily hobbles over and plops down next to him, automatically digging in for a handful. They crack open a few beers and spend the afternoon eating junk food and laughing at the scantily clad women on tv who can somehow go from partying together one night and almost fist fighting with each other the next.

Louis can’t help but feel buzzing with awareness; before yesterday, he hasn’t had a day where he feels this effortlessly good in a long time and he’s relieved to still be riding the wave of contentment. He likes being able to just relax and spend some time with a friend and genuinely enjoy himself, as opposed to the usual half-focused stares and nagging desire to be anywhere but wherever he is.

He’s not even bummed when night rolls around and Niall has to head to the bar, and Zayn and Liam hole themselves up in their room and he can hear them fucking through the walls. He’s just happy to be able to say he had two good days in a row, and hopeful that tomorrow will make three because it’s Lottie’s birthday and that means he’ll be back at the shelter to pick up Shrimp in the morning.

\--

This time upon entrance, he’s greeted by a handsome man and a woman with soft waves of hair that fall gracefully past her shoulders. The name Eleanor is brought to mind; he’d glimpsed her briefly when she poked her head in the kitten room to lightly scold Harry about something the other day. He doesn’t recognize the man, but he’s tall and smiley and has nice dark hair and sports a loosely trimmed and sculpted goatee.

“Hello, welcome to Calder Cat Haven. How can I help you today?” Eleanor smiles warmly up at him as he approaches the desk. The man looms behind her, speechless but inviting.

He feels weird for being disappointed by the two of them, but he’d sort of forgotten that Harry’s job wasn’t at the front desk and was hoping to see his glittering smile upon entrance. It occurs to him that it’s possible he may not even be around today and even if he is, there’s no guarantee that they’ll see each other. He deflates in an instant.

“Uh, yeah, I was here the other day to pick out a cat,” He explains flatly, “But I couldn’t take him home then.”

A disheveled version of Harry stumbles down the staircase then and Louis feels his heart swell back into his chest, just like that. Harry’s shoes are missing and his shirt is ruffled and his hair is a hurricane, even better than Louis imagined it would look in the mornings. When Harry spots him, his face positively elates with a dimpled grin.

“Louis!” He practically shouts, “You’ve come back to take Shrimp from me?”

Why did he have to be so damn excited to see him? It was too adorable, too flattering, too misleading. He tries to remind himself that they’ve only met once before, but the butterflies are relentless at the sight of the flower boy as he lifts the circle of lavender off his head, shakes his hair out and brushes his fringe to the side, settling the crown back into place.

Louis nods, trying to keep the smile from spreading across his own lips. “Told you I would.”

“Ah, so you’re _the_ guy from the other day.” Eleanor’s tone is thick with comprehension and suddenly her grin is almost as wide as Harry’s. The guy behind her perks up; his eyes widen and he smirks playfully in Harry’s direction.

“Louis, right?” He checks, and Louis nods. “Man, have we heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so?” Louis raises an eyebrow and plays it cool, hoping no one can hear the way his heart’s just sped up at the idea that Harry’s been talking about him.

“Oh yeah, we couldn’t get him to shut up about you yesterday,” The guy spills.

Harry glares at him behind flushed cheeks and Louis wants to reach over and kiss his forehead and hug him close and tell him _it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed, I thought about you all day too_ but he knows it would be way too much too soon and he’s good at keeping his feelings bottled up so he just sticks with his poker face and lets it play out.

“Wow, thanks guys. You’re real pals.” Harry groans.

“You know we do it out of love.” Eleanor coos, sticking her tongue out at him.

The other guy’s arms cross over his chest and his smirk grows more pronounced as he leans his back against the wall. “I do it because messing with you is fun.” He admits, and the two of them share a laugh while Harry just brushes them off.

As soon as he’s about to wonder out loud what exactly Harry had been saying about him, someone else strolls own the steps and into the lobby. It’s a man, smooth and lean like Harry, but with his average frame and standard brown, quiffed hair, he’s utterly plain looking in comparison.

Immediately, Louis decides he doesn’t like him. Something about the vibe he’s giving off, cool and cocky, makes him seem suspiciously unsettling. He can tell he’s not the only one who feels this way, by how the atmosphere in the room shifts from friendly to hostile in a matter of seconds.

The man doesn’t even introduce himself or acknowledge anyone else in the room, he just slides his arm around Harry’s waist and puts his lips to his ear and that’s when it clicks for Louis and his stomach lurches as he realizes there are beds upstairs and that must be why Harry looked so unkempt when he entered the room.

Harry smiles at Louis as the man whispers something to him and it’s a weak echo of the brilliant grin he’s already come to expect and his rage bubbles. He knows it’s stupid because Harry is not his to feel possessive over, but he was hoping to spend a little more time with him before heading to his mum’s, and this guy has just charged in out of nowhere and killed the mood and intercepted what may be his last chance to bask in Harry’s infectious glow.

Harry’s eyes are distant and unfocused as he says slowly, “Nice seeing you again, Louis. James and El can get you everything you need. Good luck with Shrimp.” and that’s it, he’s gone.

Louis watches as he strides out of the building with the stranger’s arm still around his waist and it’s like a thousand cinder blocks have just been dropped on his shoulders and he wishes he could melt into a puddle and soak into the ground and never have to face any of these awful people ever again. He feels like throwing up. He hates himself for being stupid enough to assume that a guy as pretty and sparkly as Harry wouldn’t already have a boyfriend, and even if he were single, Louis should’ve known Harry would never be into him anyways.

From the very beginning, he knew he was only setting himself up for disappointment, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He can feel the storm clouds rolling back in, two-day buzz effectively killed off in one instant, and suddenly he is exhausted. All of this is uninteresting to him now; he just wants to run home and crawl into bed and sleep for two years. He forces himself to focus on his sister’s smiling face and uses the promise of visiting her and then getting to go straight home to bed, to get him through the rest of the mundane event.

When he turns back to Eleanor and James, they’re staring past him and out the window, mouths pressed into hard lines and eyes burning with matching intensity as they eyeball the lovely couple mingling in front of a car across the street. James’ arms are still crossed as he leans against the wall, and Louis can see that his muscles are tensed beneath his shirt.

“Did you know he was here? I didn’t.” He almost growls.

“I didn’t see him come in.” Eleanor’s voice is strained.

“Must’ve snuck in the back then.” James assumes, and then mutters under his breath, “Shit bag.”

“I can’t believe he’s still around. I thought since we hadn’t seen him for a while, it was over. What is Harry even doing with him in the first place?” Eleanor scoffs.

“It’s _Harry_.” James says as an explanation, and she nods grudgingly.

Both pairs of eyes are still glued to the couple and neither of them seems to even realize that Louis is still standing there, so against his better judgment he turns to join on the staring party and instantly wishes he hadn’t.

He catches the two of them in a lip lock, just as the plain guy reaches behind to cup Harry’s ass and pull him closer. Louis feels a flare in his chest and pushes it away, trying not to think about how satisfying it would be to be able to kiss him like that, and trying even harder to ignore the jealousy towards the person who gets to. He turns back to the desk and gives an awkward, half-cough to get their attention so he can get this over with.

“Right, sorry.” James apologizes, relaxing his stance and getting down to business.

“James’ll go gather his things and get him prepped to go,” Eleanor explains as he ducks behind the door to the cat room, “And I’ve just got a few papers here for you to fill out and sign off on and we can send you on your way.”

Louis is a little too grateful to hear that; he just wants to get out of this place and never come back ever again. It takes about twenty minutes to complete the adoption process and Harry is gone for exactly all of them. He tries not to think about what he’s probably off doing with that guy, but it proves difficult and he can feel the walls of the tiny building closing in on him and fights the urge to just get up and walk away.

He feels a little better when James brings Shrimp out in his carrier and the little animal mews excitedly when it notices him, but then he catches himself thinking, _since when did cats become cute to me?_ and he remembers a day spent in the grass with curls and fur and feels sick again.

He’s glad when it’s over and on the ride to his mum’s, it’s easier to concentrate on the important things like his sister’s birthday is today and he hasn’t seen her or any of his other sisters or any of his family in almost a month. He’s been so lazy lately and even though he misses them, it’s still hard sometimes, to get the motivation and energy to make the short trip home. He usually feels guilty about it, but today he feels only anticipation at the idea of having a distraction from the big eyes and flower hair he’s sure he’ll never see again.

\--

His mum is not pleased to see what he’s brought. He realizes he probably should’ve talked to her about it ahead of time, but it’s too late for that now. At first, she is adamant that they’re not keeping it and even includes a few petty slurs at Louis’ sanity in her rant and he’s tempted to give her attitude (“Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?” Yes mum, that’s what I’m on meds for) but he only stays quiet as he lets her rant, and then he pulls Shrimp out of his carrier and she’s putty in his tiny paws.

Louis is holding him bridal style and Jay is petting between his ears and he’s purring and smiley and loving every minute of attention when out of nowhere a familiar voice squeals, “Oh my gosh, a kitty!” and the person in question comes flitting down the stairs, awkward and lanky in her budding adolescence.

“Hey Lottie, how ya been?” He does his best to give her his genuine smile where the crinkles reach his eyes.

“Awesome.” She grins, “Good to see you, Lou. Is this your new cat? I didn’t even know you liked them. It’s so cute!” She gushes, delightedly stroking his creamy fur.

Not quite sure how to answer yet, he shares a look with their mother, raising his brows inquisitively in her direction. It only takes a second for her to roll her eyes and throw her hands up in surrender, giving him permission.

“Nope, he’s all yours.” He grins at his favorite sister and she looks up at him, wide-eyed, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” She gasps, head snapping towards Jay’s face. “Mum?” She checks in disbelief and receives an encouraging smile in response. “Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you!” She cheers, clapping her hands together with glee. She reaches both her arms out eagerly and Louis places Shrimp in them like a baby, just how he likes to be held. He’s still purring loudly as he nuzzles himself into the nook of her elbow. “A real cat of my own! I can’t believe it!”

“Happy Birthday, kid.” Louis says, making her squeal again.

“You’re the best brother ever!”

“I know.” He smoothly agrees and she gives him a little smirk.

“Does he have a name already?” She wonders, scratching the animal’s belly. He is blissed out; limp in her arms with his head rolled to the side as he happily lets her please him.

“Shrimp.” Louis involuntarily grins at Harry’s silly nickname and the explanation behind it. “Because he’s tiny and he sorta looks like one.”

“Shrimp. I love it.” Lottie coos, and he nuzzles her arm again.

Fizzy and the twins come down to join in the commotion and Jay puts on a pot of tea and they all sit around the family room catching up and Louis thinks that even though his original reason for looking forward to the day had fell through, at least it wasn’t completely wasted. He has really missed his family and it’s nice to be able to spend some time with them, to have something to distract him from thinking of terrible things, most of which are suddenly Harry. He doesn’t feel so completely despaired anymore, though there is a lingering sense of dread at the thought that he’ll go home after this and life will return to the monotonous and suffocating routine of how it was before he met the boy.

He reminds himself again that it was only one day, as he tries to smother the disdain.

“How’re you feeling, Lou?” Lottie does her standard checkup when they’re left alone, the rest of the family gone off to their own business. He has to admit, he loves having someone who cares enough to ask him that. It’s nice to have someone (who isn’t paid to) genuinely want to know he’s okay. “You look happier. You’re glowing. Are you pregnant?” She jokes, making him chuckle.

“As if that would put me in any sort of good mood.” He rolls his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t it? You’d make a great father.” She says.

“You’re kidding, right? I can barely take care of my own mental health and well-being. Lord have mercy on the soul who ends up under my care.”

“Hey, none of that. You’re doing the best you can.” She gets serious.

He knows she has a point, but of course he can’t help but ask himself that if this is his best, why is it still not good enough? Why does he feel empty no matter what he does? Why is it that every time he lets himself believe even for a second that things might be turning up, it all goes right to shit again?

“Yeah, well, clearly my best isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s.” He feels a pang of guilt as he watches her face fall at the words and almost regrets them. She’s so damn concerned for him all the time and he knows she hates it when he talks down on himself, but sometimes he just wishes people could really understand how he feels on a daily basis. She is pretty good at cheering him up when he gets this way, so maybe that’s why he feels comfortable enough with her to let his guard down about these things.

“Your best is _better_ than the rest of the world’s.” She retaliates almost immediately, like it took no time at all for her come to that conclusion. “Everyone else doesn’t have to fight every day just to be normal, but you do, and you’re still even greater than normal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He brushes her off, but there’s a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips and her face softens when she notices it.

“You’ve been taking your medicine, right? I’m not gonna have to tell mum on you, am I?” She teases again, earning a small smile.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m all drugged up and seeing the crazy doctor every week as planned,” He assures.

“Glad to hear it.” She approves, pulling him in for a warm, much needed, bear hug.

\--

As he’s leaving his old home he notices a text from an unknown number and it takes no effort at all to guess who it is.

_Found your number on the adoption papers. I was hoping we’d get to talk today. Can I see you again? .x_

His face burns pink and there’s a spark in his veins and just like that, he’s back to feeling light and giddy again. The image of Harry kissing that other guy flashes into his mind like a reminder, but he shoos it away because Harry has just said he wants to see him again and even went out of his way to make sure it happens. Even if he is involved with someone else, what does it matter? Louis could always use another friend. Especially a pretty, happy one like Harry.

It was sent almost an hour ago and it takes Louis nearly twenty minutes to formulate a proper response because really, he’s shit with words. Texting already makes him feel awkward and uncharming, and texting _Harry_ only magnifies that. They banter back and forth for a minute and he’s sure that he sounds lame in all his responses and that Harry will never want to see or talk to him again after this, but then he gives his address and tells him to come over and soon enough, Louis finds himself sitting Indian style on the boy’s bed.

His room is in the basement and isn’t really a room at all, besides the bed tucked into the corner of the space. The rest is just like a typical family room, leather couch in the middle with a table set and an entertainment center across from it. There are some bookshelves completely filled with pristine hard covers that Louis wants to run his finger down all the spines of and a couple bedside tables with random knickknacks on them and that’s it. What makes it special, what makes it Harry, are things like the multicolored quilts draped over the couch, the worn shirts thrown in various places on the floor, the bright and intricate paintings taped to the walls, the blooming flower pots in the corners and on the tables, the way he lights it with lamps instead of using the actual ceiling light, the cluster of scented candles on his nightstand.

“You smoke?” Louis asks, eyeing the pipe and opened plastic bag of pot placed among the candle shrine.

Harry chuckles, “You sound surprised.”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it.” Louis says, but he considers what little he knows about Harry, who wears flowers in the hair he never brushes and walks around barefoot and keeps the same clothes on for days and cares too much about animals and likes feeling connected to the earth and it makes a lot of sense that he would be a pothead.

“Your parents don’t care?” He assumes, judging by how his effects are strewn across the table top, out in the open.

“My mum doesn’t like it, but she also doesn’t really believe in formal punishment.” Harry shrugs, plopping himself down on the bed next to Louis. He doesn’t miss the way the loops of his hair bounce and the burst of light florals that catches in his nose.

“Want some?” He asks, beginning to break and pack the plant into glistening glass.

Louis is no stranger to pot. He spent most of his high school career in a self-medicated cloudy daze, and every now and then he still lights up at parties (not that he attends them all that often), or on the rare occasions when one of his mates happens to bring some home for everyone to share. That usually happens when there’s tension between two or all of them for whatever reason, and it works effectively to calm the bunch down and get them back to their friendly roots.

“I don’t do drugs.” He deadpans anyways, and Harry literally freezes his hands in midair like he’s so stunned by this confession he doesn’t know how to continue functioning as a normal human. He looks like a cartoon character and it’s only a few seconds before Louis falters, smirking.

“Kidding. Go on.” He nods for him to finish and Harry laughs, shaking his head at himself. He finishes packing the bowl and his mouth is on it in the next instant and another after that Louis’ is and soon enough, there’s a haze forming between them as they blow smoke into each other’s faces and share smiles and pass the device back and forth.

“So, what’s with the flowers anyway?” Louis blurts after a few good hits. He’s been staring at the slight wilt of the purple buds in his hair for what feels like an hour and his thoughts had gotten lost until they were wondering how it became his thing. He guesses they must come from his mum’s shop and that’s how they’re always fresh and fragrant, but a boy in a flower crown is a phenomena he wants to unravel completely. He loves the way his curls tentacle around the halo to keep it settled in place, how the petals contrast against not only the dark of his hair, but the broadness of his shoulders and overall masculinity. Not that Harry is the epitome of manly stature, but he’s got enough of it that the flowers seem dainty in comparison.

“I just like them.” Harry shrugs, inhaling and then passing the bowl to Louis. A pause fills the room as Harry holds his breath and Louis takes his turn to suck smoke into his lungs.

“They make me feel pretty. And they smell good.” Harry says on his exhale.

Louis realizes his reasoning behind his actions are always simple and casual. He likes tattoos, so he gets them. He doesn’t like shoes, so he doesn’t wear them. He wants to put flowers in his hair, so he does. He doesn’t over think things, he just does what makes him happy and doesn’t worry about what other people may think of him for it and Louis is flooded with admiration. How nice it must be to be so carefree.

“Pretty,” He repeats softly, letting his own huff of smoke go. He hands the bowl back to Harry and watches his face as he places it back on the nightstand, studying the angle of his jaw, the curves of his lips, the jut of his nose, the flutter of his eyelashes, the arch of his forehead. His eyes find themselves lost in a nest of loopy hair and lavender dots and he nods inwardly as if confirming _yes, you are very pretty_.

Harry chuckles, noticing Louis’ concentration on his face.

“You’re very pretty too, Louis.” He offers, catching his stare with glass green sincerity. “You don’t even need flowers. You’re pretty all on your own.”

Louis flushes and his eyes reflexively fall to Harry’s bare feet, giving him something to concentrate on so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. “You don’t need them either, but it’s a nice touch.”

Harry grins a thank you and asks if he wants to listen to music and Louis jumps at the chance to find out what he’s into. He hooks his iPod up to the charger and puts it on shuffle and the music floats out into the air and Harry stretches out along the length of his mattress and it takes Louis all of two seconds to join him. His eyes are heavy and his head feels clouded and light and there’s a tingling warmth throughout his body as he lies so close to Harry their arms are brushing against each other’s and he feels like he’s in a dream.

“Tell me something random about you,” Harry eventually breaks the strangely comfortable silence between them.

Louis doesn’t really know what to say; Harry is brilliant and beautiful and he feels small and boring in comparison.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” Harry says, “How about what makes you happy? Like, what do you do in your free time? For fun.”

He thinks of Harry’s impressive list of talents and hobbies and sighs, realizing how little he’s done with his own life.

“I like to read.” He offers, eyeing the enormous bookshelf across the room. It reminds him of the library, and he has trouble not getting lost in the memory of a time when he actually enjoyed being there every day.

“What do you like to read?” Harry delves.

“Fantasy is my favorite.” He says, “I like being able to escape into a completely different world and just forget about real life, you know?”

Harry nods in agreement. “Yeah, I love it for the same reason.”

“Really?” Louis’ eyes light up. “What’s your favorite book?”

“Hm,” Harry has to think for a moment, but Louis is patient in waiting for his answer.

“Probably Peter Pan.” He finally says, “Cause growing up just sucks sometimes. It’d be cool to be a kid forever. Always wanted Peter to come whisk me off to Neverland when I was little.”

“That’s my favorite, too!” Louis is a bit overexcited recalling how his mum used to read him the original tales when he was a child, “I know the feeling exactly. I used to hope he’d come for me too. Not cause I didn’t want to grow up though, I just wanted to go for the cool adventures.”

“Same!” Harry eagerly agrees, “And then it’s like, the older you get, the more you wish you could be a kid again cause things get all complicated and you suddenly have all these responsibilities and you just realize how much easier life is when you’re young.”

“Yes, absolutely!” Louis nods in earnest, wondering if Harry really understands the depth of just how much that’s true for him. The way Harry handles himself, it certainly doesn’t seem like he’s having such a hard time dealing with his approaching adulthood.

“Too bad it’s too late for us now, though.” Harry sighs wistfully.

“Also, it doesn’t actually exist.” He reminds him, and they burst into a short fit of laughter.

They get into a discussion about books being made into movies and both agree that they’re never as good but it’s always fun to compare anyway, and then they end up back to shooting off random facts about themselves and Louis learns that Harry also has a sister who he’s very close to, and that he’s a vegetarian and his favorite food is strawberries (all fruit, really, but strawberries are the best of the best), and his favorite flowers are lilies and he’s sad that they can’t be made into good crowns, and that his first real crush was Justin Timberlake, and when he was little he once risked his life saving a frog because he noticed it hop out into the middle of the road when a car was coming so he went to its rescue.

With each new thing he learns or story he hears about Harry, he can feel himself becoming more and more fascinated by him, and more and more eager to impress him. It’s silly, really, but Louis hasn’t felt like anything but an empty shell for so long that it’s on the edge of disorienting to suddenly feel so many things at once. And being able to feel so vividly again is helping him remember who he used to be before the illness devoured him; someone who was bright and caring and actually knew how to have fun. That’s the part of him that he hopes the pretty flower boy is seeing.

“I’ve been arrested once before.” He confesses, remembering the time he spent a night at the county jailhouse before his mother bailed him out the next day. That was right around the time the depression started setting in and he was going through a rather rebellious phase.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Harry grins. “What’d you do?”

“A bar fight, if you could even call it that.” He admits, “I was only like fifteen and didn’t have an ID on me so I’ve no idea how I even got in, but one of my mates told the bartender to cut me off and I got pissed so I decked him in the face. Cops were called and I had to be dragged out.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Harry sucks his teeth and shakes his head disapprovingly, “Violence, Louis? I’m disappointed in you. Does that really ever solve anything?”

“Lighten up, hippie.” Louis teases, making Harry cracks a playful smirk. “It wasn’t like I beat him senseless, I just punched him once. It was a drunken mistake.”

“You seem to have a few of those.” Harry’s eyes drift to the stag on Louis’ bicep.

“Say no to drugs,” He shrugs, and they both laugh at the irony.

“I’ve been arrested once, too.” Says Harry.

Louis jokes, “Let me guess, you were boycotting something with pick it signs, or you tied yourself to a tree to keep them from cutting it down, or—”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, lightly pushing against his arm to silence him, “It was indecent exposure, actually.”

Louis looks Harry up and down, partly imagining him naked (and liking the view a little too much), but mostly just assessing his overall appearance, and taking his care-free personality into consideration.

“I can see that.” He says simply. “Is there a story behind it, or did you just decide to try being a nudist one day?”

“Well, I used to get bullied a lot in school and one day after gym class, some guys took my clothes while I was in the shower. They didn’t even leave me a towel, the bastards.” He clenches his fist for dramatic effect, “But I really don’t mind being naked around other people, so I just sort of shrugged and walked home like that. It was a nice day out and the breeze felt good. I actually enjoyed myself while it lasted, but I got stopped by a cop literally like, a block from my house and that was the end of that.”

The way he tells the story, upset not because he had his clothes stolen by some jerks, but because he got caught being nude in public, and the image of an awkward, high school Harry just casually strolling down the sidewalk stark naked in broad daylight has Louis laughing so hard the crinkles reach his eyes and soon he’s holding his abdomen to soothe the cramps forming. Harry laughs along with him, mostly because Louis is enjoying himself so much, and also the pot might have something to do with it.

When their laughter subsides, Louis actually has to wipe a tear from his eye.

“That’s a way better story than mine.” He admits.

“True.” Harry grins in agreement. “No one got hurt in mine.”

“Except you. You used to be bullied?” Louis frowns.

“Yeah, I mean, I had friends and stuff, of course.” Harry shrugs. “But I started wearing the flowers my freshman year, when my mum first opened the shop. And, well, high school guys, you know.”

Yeah, Louis did know. Since he’d come out at the end of high school, he’d dealt with his fair share of immature douchebags. He can only imagine what a field day they would have with a kid wearing fucking flowers in his hair.

“How did you deal with it?” He’s curious.

Harry seems honestly unfazed. “I just ignored it, mostly. It got hard sometimes, but my mum raised me well. She taught me to keep my head up and never stop smiling. People are always gonna try to bring you bring you down in life, but you can’t let it get to you. You just gotta keep doing your thing.”

Louis takes a moment to absorb that. Harry certainly does live his life that way, he can tell. It’s just one more thing for him to admire about the boy; his headstrong determination and naturally happy demeanor even in the face of all the world’s bullshit.

“You’re amazing.” He concludes, his voice is soft and sincere in his response.

There’s a prolonged pause between them as Harry turns his head to stare at him and forest meets ocean in their eyes and Louis doesn’t want to blink or even move at all for fear of disturbing the energy between them. Before his brain can even fully process how it happens, Harry’s weight is on top of him and his lips are moving, smooth and soft and warm against his own.

Louis lets his body take control, the magma rising in his chest as his hand reaches to the back of Harry’s neck and rests there, ghosting over the skin and making noticeable goose bumps rise on his arms. Harry pulls his face away only to surge forward again and again, planting kiss after kiss on Louis’ lips and leaving him craving constant contact. It’s not enough to have only a second of Harry’s lips on his; he wants more, seconds that turn into minutes, minutes into hours and days and weeks and Louis doesn’t shy from the idea of spending the rest of his life like that, permanently attached to Harry by the mouth, until a nagging in the back of his head reminds him that kissing Harry isn’t a good idea.

“I can’t,” Louis says as he breaks away, lightly pushing against the sturdy shoulders looming over him.

Harry moves his lips down to the light stubble of Louis’ jawline and his toes curl with the growing warmth in his stomach.

“Why not?” Harry kisses into his skin and Louis struggles to remember his name, let alone why he’s trying to stop this god-like creature from making him feel fire and electricity.

“I saw you kiss that guy today,” He recalls, bravely resisting the influence of the shivers up and down his spine. His hands still rest on Harry’s chest and he can feel the accelerated heartbeat through fabric and flesh but he stays a safe distance away.

“Nick? That’s nothing. I kiss a lot of people,” Harry says simply, softening his lip’s touches as he moves them down to Louis’ neck. “Kissing is fun, don’t you agree?” His voice is heavy and deep and Louis’ brain screams _yes, yes, kissing is fun kissing is very fun please kiss me all over I want your lips all over me_ but all that comes out is a small and breathy “yeah” in agreement.

“Are you not having fun?” Harry checks, looking up at him from under long, fluttery lashes. His eyes are wide and coaxing for a brief moment before he shuts them again and starts lightly sucking and biting, leaving his mark on the crease between Louis’ neck and shoulder.

Louis’ head is spinning and he feels weightless and fuzzy and he can’t decide if it’s more from Harry or the pot, but he’s sure Harry’s lips are what’s making it hard to remember why he was protesting. He considers, as long as Harry isn’t in a relationship and therefore not cheating, then who cares if he kisses other people? Right now he’s kissing him and boys as lovely and enchanting as Harry don’t settle for boys as dead and dull as Louis, so that makes him feel like maybe he is something special after all and what’s wrong with kissing cute boys who make you feel special?

“I am,” Louis manages, and Harry finishes his love bite and pulls away from his neck to look down at him with emerald intensity.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” He says, low and scratchy and enticing and Louis can tell he knows what he’s doing, how good he looks and how seductive he sounds and that drives him so crazy that he can’t resist pulling Harry’s face back to his.

It’s more urgent and sloppy this time; tongue gets added and heavy breaths turn into actual panting and hands are in hair and clamoring underneath shirts and Louis thinks surely there must be no greater pleasure in the world than the slight lines of Harry’s hidden abs. His heart pounds loudly as they grind their hips against each other’s and he can feel how hard Harry is through his jeans and his own cock is just the same. Part of him wants to reach out and rip Harry’s pants off and suck till he suffocates, but another part of him feels Harry’s hands start to fiddle with his zipper and he panics and stops it again.

“What is it?” Harry asks and it’s not rude or demanding at all, but breathless and warm and kind and honestly curious. It’s said with glassy eyes and deliciously puffed pink lips and a flush in his cheeks and flowers bent and broken and tangled in his hair and Louis wonders for a moment if he actually is certifiably insane, to be able to deny this cherub angel anything.

“I don’t—” He stutters, “I mean, we just met, Harry.”

He’s reminding himself more than anyone, because two afternoons alone with Harry has felt more like two lifetimes alone with Harry and it’s hard to fight that kind of history. He’s effortlessly sexy and infinitely wonderful inside, too, and Louis hasn’t let himself think about being this physically close to him until now and the only thing stopping him from going for it is that he doesn’t know how to sleep around.

Much as he hates to admit it, he’s too emotionally delicate to give himself up to just any boy with a nice set of abs and a pretty pair of eyes; wants to (desperately wants to, god, Harry is so tempting), but he just isn’t the type. He needs emotion to enjoy sex, has to know that the other person cares about his satisfaction just as much as he does theirs.

Harry obviously is the sleep around type though, considering the events of this afternoon, and the admission that he kisses a lot of people. He doesn’t need to wonder how many of those kisses lead to more. Based on how quickly Harry went for it, he probably isn’t used to being turned down.

Which is fine, Louis doesn’t mind if he has had a lot of hook ups. But he isn’t willing to be just another one of them.

“But sex is fun, don’t you—” Harry starts, and Louis slaps him in the arm and they chuckle together and heat mixes with heat in their close proximity.

“You are _not_ using the same pitch to seduce me into fucking you,” Louis is adamant.

Harry smirks playfully, but obediently shifts his weight off and rolls back to a sitting position, legs extended next to his on the bed.

“I intended to be the one fucking you, actually.” He returns, and Louis can actually pinpoint the spark of arousal in his stomach and follow its path up his spine and all through his veins.

“Regardless, it’s not happening.” He brushes him off, but his mind is full of images of Harry slamming him into the mattress and fucking the breath out of his lungs, till he’s screaming and sore and can’t even walk right the next day.

“Yet.” He tacks on as an after thought, and that’s all it takes for Harry’s pout to disappear and be replaced with his stupid too-wide grin again.

“I’ll be counting the days.” He lightly runs his finger along the curve of Louis’ jawline and leans over to press a kiss into the space behind his ear.

“Might just have to make you wait for it, then.” Louis hums, relishing in the idea that Harry even wants him at all, never mind bad enough that he honestly just tried to get his pants off after having only known each other for a couple days.

“But I get impatient so easily,” Harry whines softly, still tracing his bone structure, “And I just  _need_ to have you red-faced and screaming my name.”

Louis’ stomach twists in anticipation and he flushes and Harry half-grins at him, loving it.

“You’ll get your chance.” He promises, feeling weak already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, please don't be afraid of the comment button, let me know your thoughts! :)


	3. Who you are is falling over me

After that first night in Harry’s room, the two of them become instantly inseparable. Being unemployed and too far behind in all of his classes to even consider showing up, Louis visits the shelter almost every day and easily slips into the routine of following the trail of petals back to Harry’s house for bowls and banter. He suddenly doesn’t have the time to make himself feel guilty about being a broke and jobless college dropout or entertain the idea of suicide anymore, when his mind is so consumed with chocolate curls and avocado eyes.

He’s exactly what Louis needs right now. It’s like for the past few years he’s been a dormant flower bud and Harry is the sunshine he didn’t know he was waiting for to begin blooming. He wakes up energized and alive, feeling like he can take on the world. He hasn’t been zoning out so much lately and even willingly starts going out with his friends again.

Whenever Harry’s mum is on the way home, Louis usually gets kicked out of the house and ends up joining Liam and Zayn for drinks at the bar where Niall works. They all catch up on their days and goof off with each other and he wonders how long it’s been since he was able to let go and just enjoy their company. It feels like he’s missed out on so much happening around him, and it’s disorienting in the best of ways to be so awaked and welcomed back into group hangouts with wide open arms.

“So, Louis,” Zayn starts one time over beers, “You haven’t mentioned Harry all night. Trouble in paradise?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “As if we’re dating or something.”

It’s not as if he fan girls over Harry like a schoolgirl with a senior crush, but once he was sure that the treasured find was around to stay, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing him up constantly.

When he went grocery shopping with Liam earlier that week and they had trouble picking out which flavors of crisps to get, Louis suggested Harry’s favorites. That same night when Zayn was prattling on about the best tattoo of the day, a bunch of elegant roses in a fantastic array of colors all down a woman’s ribcage, Louis mentioned that roses look really good in Harry’s hair. When Niall came home after sleeping elsewhere for a few nights and he asked what’s up, all of Louis’ responding stories were about sunshine smiles and flower curls.

It goes on like that every day, just making little comments about Harry and bringing him up whenever he can. Part of him is really annoyed at himself for talking about the boy so much, but the words seem to just tumble out of his mouth before he can even stop them, and his friends clearly aren’t bothered by it anyway. To say they’re happy to see him happy would be an understatement; they’re absolutely thrilled to have him back.

“May as well be! You talk about him often enough.” Liam says.

“And you spend literally every day with the kid.” Zayn adds.

“That doesn’t mean we’re together,” Louis brushes them off. “I spent every day with you lot back in school.”

“Yeah, and now these two are boning,” Niall gestures to Liam and Zayn. “So when’s it gonna be our turn, Lou? You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

Louis rolls his eyes again but cracks a smile.

“Missed your window Nialler, he’s busy trying to pull Harry now.” Zayn comments.

“We’re just _friends_.” Louis groans, and the other boys nod but it’s somehow sarcastic.

Truthfully, that is all they are as of now. Besides that one brief make-out session, they haven’t done anything except spend time together in an almost completely platonic sort of way. And Louis is okay with that, even if he does spend the majority of his time coveting bouncy curls and craving the taste of strawberry lips. He’s just happy to have Harry in his life at all.

“Well it’s only fair that we get to meet him at least,” Says Liam, taking a sip from his pint. “We deserve to know who you’re always going on about. Put a face to the name and all that.”

“Make sure he’s not a creep or anything,” Zayn seconds.

“Give him the standard third degree,” Continues Liam.

“Find out when he plans to make an honest woman out of you,” Niall finishes and the three of them burst out laughing.

“I swear to god if you guys embarrass me in front of him, I’m moving out.” Louis threatens.

“Does that count as you agreeing to bring him along for drinks tomorrow?” Zayn checks.

Louis throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Whatever, if it’ll get you all off my back about him.”

“It won’t.” Niall warns. Zayn and Liam simply grin in agreement.

Louis worries that it might be a bit weird to invite Harry to meet them after only having known each other for a couple weeks, and when they’re not even dating no less, but then again he has met a lot of Harry’s friends already. With all his time hanging around the shelter he’s grown quite attached to Eleanor and James, and he’s been introduced to dozens of people, customers and others who randomly stop by just to say hi. Apparently Harry has a lot of friends, and he is quite charming, so it’s not as if Louis is worried his friends won’t like him. He’s not really sure why he’s hesitant; maybe it’s just the typical fears of having someone you really like meet the people you care about for the first time. It’s been ages since he liked someone as much as he does Harry, so naturally his anxiety levels are off the charts.

The next night they gather at the bar as per usual, only this time they’re all anticipating Harry’s grand entrance. He likes to have dinner with his family most nights (the adorable bastard) so Louis’d left his house earlier that evening with the promise that he’d meet up with them after.

After a few beers it’s getting late and Louis begins to worry he isn’t coming and he lets his mind run away with the idea that Harry doesn’t want to meet his friends. Maybe he’d heard him wrong and Harry actually told him _maybe I’ll stop by_ rather than a solid _yes I’ll be there_ , and in the end chose to opt out. If that’s the case, he’ll have to explain to the guys that Harry isn’t coming because he probably secretly hates him or something. Deep down, he knows it’s ridiculous to jump to such an extreme conclusion, but some part of his brain just still can’t comprehend that anyone as magical as Harry actually wants anything to do with him.

Relief floods his body once he catches sight of a ring of yellow daisies atop a mop of loopy curls push his way in the front door. Harry strolls through the threshold and looks curiously around, scanning the place for a familiar face. He looks so adorably lost and clueless that Louis’ face melts into a soft smile, and his friends automatically turn their heads to the entrance as he waves Harry over to where they’re sat.

“Harry, man! Good to see you!” Zayn practically shouts, reaching out to slap his palm against Harry’s and then pull away in some sort of secret bro-handshake.

“Hey, same to you mate! And you guys, too!” Harry says, equally as enthusiastic as he greets Liam and Niall with the same ridiculous hand ordeal.

“Wait, wait, wait; you guys know each other already? How?” Louis asks, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock.

“Hell yeah, Harry’s a shop regular! Ed and I’ve done probably more than half the ink on him.” Zayn explains.

Harry nods in agreement, adding on, “Yeah, and Liam stops by a lot, and I’ve heard Niall play at some of Ed’s gigs before.”

“Small world.” Louis comments under his breath, still stunned. He can’t believe he’s really been that out of the loop lately, to where he hadn’t even heard anything about Harry through Zayn, who likes to talk about his clients. If they’re already on that much a friendly level, he’s sure he must have at the very least mentioned a boy with flowers in his hair. More than once, probably.

On some level though, he’s utterly relieved that he doesn’t have to do any awkward introductions or wonder if they’re enjoying themselves. The fact that they’re already mates makes him have to hold back a satisfied smirk at how perfectly Harry fits into his life.

“You haven’t been ’round in a bit though,” Zayn accuses, “You’re not seeing another artist behind my back, are you?”

Harry laughs, bright and genuine. “Nah, I just haven’t gotten anything new in a while. I’m overdue. You know you guys are my favorites though.”

“Me more than Ed, right?” Zayn teases.

“Oh, by far.” Harry gives an exaggerated nod, grinning all the way. “How’s he anyway? Wasn’t in the last time I stopped by, so I haven’t seen him in even longer.”

“He’s great, been playing some pretty big shows lately, so he hasn’t had much time for tattooing.” Zayn fills him in.

“Sweet,” Says Harry, sliding onto the empty stool next to Louis. “Let me know when his next gig is, it’d be nice to hear him again.”

“This weekend at Del Rey’s!” Niall chips in. “He asked me to do a set with him. You should stop by!”

“I’ll definitely be there.” Harry promises, looking over at Louis with wide sparkling emeralds. “You will too, right, Lou?” He reaches to for Louis’ knee, giving it a light squeeze and letting his hand rest there for a bit.

Already, he’s come to expect these sorts of touches from Harry; he’s always brushing his hair out of his eyes for him, or absently caressing his arm, or resting his hand in the crook of his lower back, or something of the sort. Harry just likes to touch him a lot, and Louis has no desire to complain about it. It always makes his stomach flutter and turns his brain to mush.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going too.” Louis says, casually as he can muster.

“Cool,” Harry grins.

“So how’ve ya been, man? What’cha been up to?” Niall asks, resting his forearms against the counter to lean in closer to the group.

“Pretty great actually. Much of the same, except lately I’ve just been so busy with our darling little Louis here.” Says Harry, giving his leg a little pat. “If I’d have known you’re all such good friends, I’d have stopped monopolizing his time and suggested this a while ago.”

“Fuck, how is it that none of us even realized you’re the same Harry that’s got him whipped like a circus elephant?” Zayn marvels.

Louis almost chokes on his drink. Not that his crush on the boy isn’t fairly obvious, but they aren’t supposed to actually _say anything_ about it.

“I so am not!” Louis denies, giving Zayn a glare that conveys something along the lines of both a death wish and a promise.

Harry’s face dimples with his trademark grin. “Has he been speaking much of me? I’m honored.”

“Oh, we’d be sick of hearing about you by now if we weren’t too busy enjoying that happy smile of his.” Liam says. “It was a rare sight until you guys got together.”

Louis can feel the heat burning his cheeks. “Christ, this is what I meant about embarrassing me.” He grumbles, taking another gulp from his pint. “You guys are like the annoying parents who try to hang out with their kid’s friends and just don’t get the hint about how uncool they are.”

“Don’t play that! We’re the coolest and you love us.” Niall laughs.

“You’re the worst bunch of people I’ve ever known.” Louis is firm.

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, babe, it’s a pretty smile.” Harry says, reaching up to trace his thumb along Louis’ jawline, as if willing it to make an appearance. It works, and Louis sheepishly drops his eyes to his lap as his lips reflexively pull up at the corners, despite his best efforts. “And I’m happy to be the reason for it.”

There’s a short pause between the group as the others take in their interaction, and then Niall asks no one in particular, “Did I just become a Larry shipper?”

“I sure as shit did.” Zayn smirks smugly.

“That makes three of us.” Says Liam, and they clink their glasses together in cheers.

\--

It takes exactly three and a half weeks since his first meeting with Harry for Louis to have another bad day. Ironically enough, it’s his periodic therapy session that brings him down from his high.

Here’s why he thinks therapy is bullshit: it never really helps solve his problems, it just helps him think of more.

Over a number of years and an even bigger number of therapists, he’s found that they usually don’t talk much, they get him to do most of that, and then all they do is inject their little ideas into his mind until suddenly he’s worrying about a hundred new things he previously didn’t even realize he should be. Then they spend another hour discussing those, building up his anxieties even more, so that by the end of the session when they tell him to come back next week, he’s somehow left believing that he really does need it seeing as he’s nowhere near figuring his life out.

Therapy is one big mind game after another, and it’s a game that only the therapists actually win, when you shell out hundreds of dollars per session to keep your mental health at bay. The only reason he even bothers going anymore is because it makes his mum happy to know he’s “getting help”, and technically he does need the doctor’s recommendation for his prescription refills.

That week as he’s sat in the stuffy room, going on about his latest Harry adventure in which they stayed high all day while marathoning Harry Potter movies, his therapist suggests that he might be “using Harry as a bandage for a wound that needs stitches” which is basically just a pretentious way of saying that Louis is a lovesick puppy who’s counting on Harry to be the solution to his fucked up head.

Suddenly he’s thinking maybe it _is_ unhealthy the way he’s become slightly obsessed with the boy. He’s not unaware of the fact that at least half of his brain is occupied with shimmery smiles and raspy laughter, and he does count on getting a daily dose of that fragrant hair and gentle touch to lift his mood, but he didn’t see anything wrong with it until his therapist pointed it out and now he’s doubting everything.

Maybe it is wrong to feel such intense things towards someone he’s only known for a few weeks. He certainly doesn’t expect Harry to fix all of his problems, but maybe he is relying a bit too much on him to make him feel better about them.

\--

He skips the shelter the next day, opting instead to lay in bed and destroy himself with the idea that he needs to distance himself from Harry before things blow up in his face. He starts to think maybe it was a bad idea to have Harry meet his friends, maybe it was a bad idea to ever meet Harry’s friends, maybe it was a bad idea for them to even meet each other. Maybe they both would’ve been better off without each other.

Well, Harry would be better off without him anyways. He’s only going to drag him down like he does everyone else in his life. He can feel the way their moods react to his; with how up he’s been lately, the guys have been significantly brighter as well. And whenever he’s in a shit storm like the one he can feel brewing, their spirits fade, too. He doesn’t want to end up having that effect on Harry, especially because Harry is so warm and wonderful and fun. He won’t let himself be the one to drain the life from him.

He gets a text halfway through the morning:

_Did you get lost? It’s the big house with the sign in the yard haha .x_

Another about thirty minutes later:

_Are you coming soon? Or at all today?_

Ten minutes:

_Louuuuuu_

Almost immediately after:

_The kittens miss their second daddy. They’re very upset with you right now._

Another half hour:

_You’re starting to worry me. You ok?_

And the final one comes just a few minutes later:

_Am I bothering you? Sorry. Just tell me you haven’t gotten in a horrible accident or something and I’ll leave you alone._

He wants to answer that one, he really does, but somehow he just can’t summon the energy to do anything except turn his phone off, roll over in bed, and fall back to sleep to avoid dealing with the fact that he’s already fucking up the best thing to ever happen to him.

He doesn’t wake up again until later that evening, when there’s a knock at the door. He considers ignoring it, seeing as how everyone who lives there owns a key so it can’t possibly be anyone important, but he hasn’t left his room all day and figures it’s as good of an excuse as any to get up and use the toilet at least. His feet drag on the way to the door.

As soon as he answers it, he’s hit with the sweet smell of some unrecognizable tiny blue and white flowers. Harry stands in the doorway, clad in his usual loose white top, black skinnies, and bare feet. He’s got a dingy rucksack tossed over his shoulder, but Louis can’t be bothered to guess what’s inside.

“How’d you know where I live?” He asks, sounding dull and drained. He’s never invited him over before. They’d kind of just fallen into a comfortable routine of gathering at Harry’s house, so it’s weird for him to be there at all.

“Adoption papers. We tend to keep that kind of stuff around.” Harry teases.

“Oh.” Says Louis, and then there’s a bit of an awkward silence between them.

“You didn’t show up today, and you haven’t answered any of my texts, so I was worried. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Harry gives a weak smile. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Yeah.” Louis says.

“Are you?” He asks, waving his hand in front of Louis’ eyes. “Okay, I mean.”

“I’m fine.” Louis repeats the familiar lie.

“You don’t seem fine.” Harry notices.

“I am. Just sleepy. I think I might have a bug or something.” He lies again.

“Oh, if that’s it, I can whip up some soup to make you feel better.” Harry offers. “My mum taught me this recipe that can cure anything, guaranteed. Hasn’t failed me yet.”

This time Louis speaks the truth. “Thanks, but I’m not really up for it right now.”

“Nonsense.” Harry pushes his way past Louis and into his flat for the first time. “You’re sick and I’m going to nurse you back to health. You just go lie down and let Doctor Styles take care of you.”

“Harry, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Before Louis can protest again, Harry is lifting him up bridal style, and Louis wraps his arms around his neck to steady himself. Harry effortlessly carries him into the living area and gently sets him down on the couch and Louis is too flustered and caught off guard by his strength to even form a proper sentence.

“Now stay right here while I go figure things out in the kitchen.” Harry commands.

Louis heaves a deep sigh, realizing that his time to himself is officially over. It’s probably a good thing anyway, since wallowing never does him any good and he’d rather have Harry be the one to interrupt it than just about anyone else on the planet.

“Pots and pans are in the drawer underneath the stove.” He calls, watching as the towering figure sashays out of the room.

He lies down on the sofa as noises fill the stagnant air in the tiny home; sounds of things clinking against each other, drawers being shifted around in, the refrigerator door opening and closing again.

He still can’t escape the nagging thought that maybe this is all wrong, and thinks it’s kind of ironic that Harry is trying to make him physically better when it’s not even his body that’s sick. It feels like some kind of metaphor for all that bandage crap his therapist was talking about. Harry might be capable of healing him from the outside, but there are no family recipes to cure his brain.

Did he even suspect there was anything seriously wrong with him? Pretty much right from the get-go, Louis’d been bright and comfortable in his presence, and now he was thankful for that. If Harry had met this sad and distant version of him, he’s sure they’d never have become friends.

“I found some blankets in the hall closet,” Harry announces, snapping Louis out of his thoughts. He shakes out an off-white throw and drapes it over the length of the sofa, patting the edges down to make sure it’s snug around Louis’ body.

He sits himself down on the arm near Louis’ head and takes a moment to lightly brush a feather of his sandy hair to the side, looking down at him with fond eyes.

“You okay?” He checks. “Need anything else?”

“I’m alright just like this,” Louis says.

“Good. Let me know if you think of something.” Harry’s answering smile is warm. “Soup should be ready soon; it just has to simmer for a bit. I hope you don’t mind vegetables, I couldn’t really… I mean, you know, meat, and all.”

Louis smirks. “Yeah, you being a radical hippie and whatnot. I get it.”

Harry just chuckles, and Louis wants to keep him talking so he doesn’t have time to think about bad things anymore.

“Have you really never eaten any sort of animal in your whole life?” He wonders.

“Not a bit.” Harry confirms with pride. “My mum used to get so mad at me; she’d cook these big, elaborate family dinners when I was just a little lad, and I’d climb up to the table all tiny and happy and then I’d look down and frown at the steak or chicken or whatever it was on my plate and end up only eating the broccoli and rice.”

Louis pictures a child-version of Harry and suddenly feels like he actually does have a stomach bug, because the thought is far too adorable too bear.

“Bet you were a cute kid.” He says.

“Please, I was fucking adorable.” Harry beams, making him laugh.

“You missed out on the best parts of the meal though!” He protests.

Harry shakes his head. “Not to me.”

“Is it because you feel bad for them?” Louis is curious.

Harry just nods, but his face falls a bit, and Louis can tell he’s hit a bit of a nerve, the guy loves animals that freaking much. He doesn’t like when Harry looks anything but exceedingly pleased with the world, which really seems to be his default expression, so he teases him again.

“You’re like the only kid in the world who actually eats his vegetables, and your mum doesn’t even appreciate it.” He chuckles. “Mine had to practically hold me down and force feed me anything that wasn’t at least ninety percent sugar.”

“Well that explains your little tummy,” Harry assumes, and Louis’ face flushes.

“Hey! I’m self-conscious about that, you know.” He pouts.

“You shouldn’t be, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Harry leans over the couch, horizontally hovering over his body. He pokes the general area where he thinks his belly is, smiling at the way it makes Louis squirm.

“It can’t possibly be any cuter than those damn dimples of yours.” Louis presses his own finger into the deepest crater on Harry’s cheek.

“Those are nowhere near as cute as the little crinkles by your eyes when you smile.” Harry counters.

Louis shows off those crinkles, grinning madly. “Well, your bum is even cuter than that, no contest.”

“Funny, ‘cute’ isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe _your_ bum.”

“What word would you use?”

“I won’t say. It’s not ladylike.” Harry admits, and they both share another laugh.

“Aw, babe, remember when we were like that?” A familiar voice coos from the doorway, and they snap their heads up in time to see Liam and Zayn having just gotten home.

“Everyone grows out of the honeymoon phase eventually.” Zayn reminds him.

“Not a honeymoon phase.” Louis grumbles.

“We still have our moments, though.” Liam offers, completely disregarding Louis’ complaint.

“Yeah, we do.” Zayn agrees in a way that makes it sound like he’s fondly remembering something. He wraps his arms around Liam’s waist and pulls him closer, planting a kiss in the crook of his neck, and a smile takes over Liam’s whole face as he leans into the embrace.

With his concentration devoted to the couple’s little moment, Harry isn’t paying attention to things like body coordination, so he loses his balance and suddenly falls on top of Louis, effectively knocking the breath right out of him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He apologizes, immediately pushing his weight off and back up to his sitting position on the arm of the couch. “You alright? I’m sorry.” He says again, peering down at him through concerned irises.

Louis gives a tiny cough. “No. You’ve crushed my bones into dust. You’ll have to spoon feed me my soup now, seeing as I can’t move my limbs.”

“Right, the soup!” Harry shouts, hopping up and dashing past Liam and Zayn into the kitchen to check on the food.

“So that’s what smells so good,” Zayn thinks out loud, following the petal halo out of the room.

“Nice to see you again too, Harry!” Liam shouts sarcastically over his shoulder, choosing to stay with Louis in the living room, filling in Harry’s spot at the end of the couch.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Just fine until you guys butted in.”

Liam cracks a smile. “I mean about the blanket, and how you’re laying down out here. You sick or something?”

In all honesty, he’d completely forgotten about the lie he told Harry that landed them in this situation anyway. He was too busy enjoying the curly haired angel’s company to remember to play sick.

“Uh, no. But don’t tell Harry that.” He warns.

“Jesus Lou, you’ve got the poor guy taking care of you now?”

“He wanted to!” Louis defends. “He just showed up here and I told him I was sick so he’d go home, but then he just barged in and started cooking dinner and calling himself a doctor and I mean, what was I supposed to do? He’s bigger than me, it’s not like I could physically kick him out.”

“Why would you want to send him away in the first place?” Liam wants to know. “You two’ve been like Siamese twins since you met.”

Louis sighs, remembering how he’d wasted the day lying in bed, avoiding everything except his own foolish thoughts.

“I was just… having a bad day, or whatever.” He shrugs, trying to make it seem like not a big deal, but Liam is instantly concerned.

“Should I be worried?” His brow furrows.

“If you’d have asked me that this morning I might have said yes, but I feel okay now.”

Liam searches his face for a minute to make sure he’s telling the truth, and then he smiles mischievously. “Apparently a spoonful of Harry helps the medicine go down.”

Louis whacks him on the head with a pillow. “That doesn’t make any sense! Plus I haven’t even taken anything today.”

“And why should you? Harry seems to have a better effect than your meds anyway.” Liam is still grinning. “A spoonful of Harry makes the medicine pointless.”

“Wow Li, keep that up and I might actually be sick all over your shoes.”

“Bet Harry’s pretty good at keeping things u—”

Louis hits him with the pillow again, and Liam’s laughing when Harry and Zayn re-appear with bowls of steaming liquid in each hand.

“Soup’s on!” Harry chuckles at his own lame pun.

There aren’t any chairs in the room, but once Louis sits up there’s enough room for Harry to take his seat next to him, and Zayn and Liam choose to place their bowls on the low table and settle down on the floor.

“This smells heavenly.” Louis compliments, earning a painful grin from Harry.

“Tastes that way, too,” Zayn’s already gulping down his third spoonful.

“Seriously Harry, this is fantastic.” Agrees Liam, mouth full of his second.

“Oh stawp it guys, you’re making me blush.” Harry dramatically bats his eyelashes.

Louis looks over at him as if he’s anticipating something, and Harry cocks his head to the side in genuine curiosity. “What?” He wonders.

“You broke my bones, remember? My arms are immobile.” Louis reminds him.

“You really want me to feed you?” He asks and Louis just nods, widening his eyes and turning his mouth down into a pathetic, helpless frown.

Harry chuckles, “Okay, okay, just stop with the puppy dog face, you’re killing me.”

He takes the spoon from the untouched bowl in his lap, fills it up nicely with vegetable chunks swimming in broth, and brings it up to Louis’ mouth, but not before pursing his lips and lightly blowing wind at it so it’s not too hot.

Louis fits his mouth around the spoon, never breaking eye contact as he slowly pulls back and licks it clean, smacking his lips at the taste. He gulps it own and savors it for a few moments before giving his review.

“Wow, that is really good.” He assures, slow and sincere.

“Thank you.” Harry’s responding voice is low and sultry, and still they keep their eyes locked on each other’s for an unusually long, heavy moment. They don’t speak or even pay attention to anything else as Harry spoons him a few more bites and Louis’ content little smile appears after each one, and Harry gives a soft giggle in response to his happiness.

“Other people still in the room.” Zayn mumbles, interrupting.

“No one invited you.” Louis barks.

“Hey, we live here too.” Liam reminds him.

“Yeah, but we were here first.” Louis retorts.

“Alright alright, we can tell when we’re not wanted.” Liam picks up his bowl, ready to leave them alone, and he nudges Zayn to do the same.

“No, you guys are more than welcome to stay and hang out with us.” Harry sounds genuine because that’s just how he is, but also slightly wistful because he likes his alone time with Louis, too.

“He’s just being nice. He’s a ridiculous little sweetheart.” Louis contradicts, side-eying Harry fondly.

“Sorry Harry, your boyfriend’s getting jealous. We’ll have to back off for now and give you guys some privacy.” Zayn smirks playfully, copying Liam’s action and heading for their bedroom door.

“I think you guys really just want some privacy of your own.” Louis seizes the opportunity to poke some fun at their relationship for once.

“Yeah, difference is at least we can admit it!” Liam teases as he disappears behind Zayn and shuts the door after them.

When the two of them are alone again Harry says, “I like your friends a lot. They’re fun.”

“I’m fun.” Louis pouts.

“Yes, you are.” Harry grins, poking the tip of his nose. “That’s probably why you guys get on so well.”

“Yeah, as much as we like to give each other shit, they are my oldest mates. Niall too. Don’t know where I’d be without them.” He nods in fond remembrance of the beginning, when they all met after being put on the same team for a game of capture the flag during gym class in sixth grade. They dominated the opposing team and from that moment on, it was like a silent friendship pact between them. They all found each other at lunch the next day and haven’t stopped sticking together since.

“Me either.” Harry agrees, rubbing his hand over the tattoos on his bicep.

“Did you let him do some of those when he was drunk?” Louis notices the few that look more like stick-and-poke than professional work.

“Guess so. Not all of them are as high quality as his usual stuff.” Harry laughs lightly.

“Yeah, I recognize the style.”

“Did he do the stag, too? Cover up his own disaster?” He wonders, and Louis nods.

“He’s the only one I’ll let near me with an ink gun. Works for me, since I get the best mate slash roomie slash unresolved sexual tension discount of absolutely free.”

“We can still hear you!” A muffled voice calls through the door. “You wish, Tomlinson!”

The two of them have a laugh, and then agree that it’s best they retreat to Louis’ room too, for some actual privacy.

When they’re alone again Harry finally digs around in the bag he brought over to find all his smoking paraphernalia, and they quickly get a good buzz going. He’s brought his iPod along too, so he puts on some soft music because that’s just what they’ve gotten used to doing when they smoke, and they keep going until their lids are heavy and their minds are in the clouds.

“If the soup didn’t make you feel better, then this definitely will.” Harry says on exhale.

“The soup did wonders, but a little smoke is always a good idea.” Louis takes his own hit, holds it in for a few beats, and blows it out into the air as he hands the bowl back to Harry.

“And that’s why you’re my new best friend.” Harry laughs, and Louis’ heart stutters at the label. Maybe it had only been a few weeks, but it’s crazily accurate. He’s almost afraid to admit it, but even the friends he’s known most of his life are on par with the closeness he feels to Harry already. He’s never clicked so easily with anyone, and especially not so quickly.

Harry leans his back against the wall and Louis stretches out along the bed and puts his feet in Harry’s lap and they settle into comfortable silence.

“You weren’t really sick today, were you?” Harry guesses randomly, breaking Louis’ concentration on the song playing.

“I guess the jig is up.” Louis confesses.

“Why did you tell me you were, then? Did you not want to see me?” Harry is concentrated on tracing little circles into Louis’ ankles, strategically avoiding eye contact.

“No, I did.” Louis assures. He debates telling Harry about his illness, how he sometimes just thinks himself into a funk, but he’s afraid it will be too much and Harry won’t know how to deal with it. He’s always worried that people will get tired of putting up with him someday and leave; it’s happened before, and that’s just not a chance he’s willing to take in this case. Plus, he always feels like a prick whenever he blames his bad behavior on depression, so he decides it’s better to just not mention it for now.

“I was just in a lousy mood.” He says simply.

“You could have told me that. I would’ve understood.” Harry frowns. “It’s just that, like, I mean, you lied to me. That makes me wonder if you’re hiding something.”

Louis laughs lightly at the notion. “You’re in my bedroom, Harry. You’ve riled through my kitchen and hung out on my couch all evening. If I had something to hide, don’t you think you would’ve found it by now?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Harry falls back, a smile spreading across his face. “Will you maybe not do it again though? You can just be honest with me, you know.”

“Yes, master.” Louis complies, sending them into a short fit of giggles.

“What do you think I’d be hiding, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs. “A guy or something, I guess.”

Now Louis laughs out loud.

“Why’s that funny?” Harry’s eyes are curiously widened.

“Because I’m high.” Louis attributes, “And because you must be even higher if you think I’ve got guys in my life to hide from anyone.”

“Oh come on, you’re saying you don’t?”

Louis shakes his head. “I haven’t really been concerned with dating or anything of the sort in a while.”

“Really? When was the last time you kissed someone?”

“A few weeks ago, in your room.” Louis says, and Harry’s answering smile nearly breaks his face.

“Before that?”

“It’d been years.” Louis shrugs.

“ _Years?_ Really?” Harry’s eyes are bulging now.

“Yes, really. Shut up. I told you I don’t date.” Louis defends.

Harry laughs, backing off. “I’m just surprised is all. You were really good. Like… _really_ good.”

“Must be natural talent.” Louis grins, proud of himself for being able to impress Harry with his tongue. It actually means a lot coming from him, because he knows Harry gets around. Sometimes he mentions people he used to hook up with, and a few of the people who come to see him at the shelter will occasionally make little lighthearted comments about his skills in bed. Louis always tensions when that happens. He prefers not to think about Harry being intimate with other people, so he doesn’t want to know anything about the last time he was kissed.

“Okay, how about, when was the last time you liked someone then?” Harry tries.

He feels his cheeks warm up and he wills himself not to make it obvious.

“That is confidential information.” He makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“Aw, come on! I’ll tell you when it was for me.” Harry offers.

“Okay, go.” Louis demands.

“My last real… I mean, it wasn’t a relationship or whatever, but Nick is his name. I met him like five years ago and we sort of had a thing for a long time and I haven’t really liked anyone since.” He spills, keeping his eyes down. “I mean, there’s been casual flings and stuff, but no one I’ve had real feelings for.”

“Is?” Louis notices. “That’s the guy you were all over that day at the shelter, yeah?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to tint his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“So it’s still going on then?” Louis checks, not sure if he’s even prepared for the answer.

“Not really.” Harry shrugs. “It’s more like, he calls me whenever he’s going through a dry spell and we hook up and then I don’t hear from him for months.”

Louis frowns. “You don’t deserve that.”

“I know.”

“So why do you put up with it then?”

Harry sighs, long and deep. “That, I don’t know. He can get away with a whole lot of shit with me… like, things I wouldn’t normally tolerate from most people. And he’s not afraid to take advantage of it.”

“He sounds like a right knob. Why do you still care about him?” Louis wonders.

“Again, I wish I could tell you.” Harry chuckles lightly at his own stupidity. “I know he’s an asshole, everyone does, but he just has a way of getting under my skin.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else. He just reaches up to cup Harry’s jaw from the side, caressing his cheek with his thumb. All he can think about is what a shame it is for someone that beautiful to have to deal with being treated that way and how much he wishes he could be the one to show him what it feels like to have someone properly care about you back, but the words stay stuck in his throat because Harry did mention that he hasn’t liked anyone since. There’s no way he’s going to admit to his own feelings now.

“Your turn.” Harry nudges his hand with his head.

He honestly has to think for a minute; when _was_ the last time he’d had a crush on someone? He hadn’t felt much of anything for years, let alone romantic things. Boys really had been the least of his concerns until Harry came along.

“There was a girl named Hannah in high school.” He finally says, “We dated for like a year and she was really cool. I liked her a lot at one point, but then eventually I just didn’t anymore cause, well…” Louis just sort of shrugs it off.

“You’re not into chicks?” Harry guesses.

“What was your first clue?” He chuckles.

“Just making sure. You could be questioning or whatever.”

“Are you?”

“I like fit people.” Harry says simply. “Gender doesn’t really matter.”

“So you’re bi.” Louis concludes.

“If that’s what you want to call it. I don’t really like the label though.”

“God, you are such an insufferable hipster. I can’t believe I actually like you.” Louis blurts, and Harry cracks a smile.

“Thought Hannah was the last?” He smirks.

“I meant as a friend, obviously.” Louis recovers.

“Mhm.” Harry hums. “Well, I like you too. As a friend, of course.”

Louis playfully kicks him in the leg, so Harry pinches his ankle, and then Louis smacks him in the arm, and soon enough they’re poking and prodding at each other until it turns into a full on wrestling match that ends with them both breathless from laughter as Harry pins Louis down to the bed, holding his arms over his head and straddling his waist.

“I win.” He grins down at him. His curls are dangling loosely around his face and the ring of fluffy petals is hanging half off his head and Louis fights the urge to lift up and kiss him right on those tauntingly plush pink lips.

“I let you win.” He lies.

“Don’t minimize my victory. You couldn’t move right now if you tried.” Harry accuses.

He doesn’t want to try. Their pelvises are pressed against each other and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to control his urges. All he can do is stay still and hope that Harry doesn’t move too much either, because the friction between them would surely do it and unreciprocated boners are really fucking inconvenient.

“Only because you’re so huge.” He retorts. “You have an unfair advantage. I demand a rematch.”

“I’ll still be bigger than you.” Harry laughs, letting go and moving his weight off and to the side to lay next to him.

“Right, but we don’t have to do it now. If I catch you off guard, I’ll win. I’m pretty strong too, ya know.”

“With those arms? I believe it.”

“Yeah, so you better sleep with one eye open.” Louis warns.

“Are you guys smoking pot in our fucking flat?” Zayn’s voice calls through the wall.

“God, there’s no escaping you anywhere, is there?” Louis yells back.

“Nope! You gonna share the wealth or what?”

“You’re welcome to join us, of course!” Harry shouts before Louis can object, although he’s visibly pouting. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends, just that he’s a bit selfish really, and prefers keeping Harry all to himself.

Harry notices his reaction and in turn, nuzzles his face against Louis’ neck. He presses a little peck into the skin there, and his cheeks are in flames as the low, gravelly voice whispers, “I know, but we can’t become total antisocial hermits now, can we?”

And of course that’s when Liam and Zayn happen to walk in, catching the two of them in their embrace.

“Bloody hell, and you’re still trying to deny there’s anything going on here?” Liam accuses, casually plopping himself down on Niall’s empty bed.

“We’re just friends.” Louis swears, but now he’s actually wondering about the truth of that. All their flirting and touching seemed to be just good, harmless fun up until this point, but that definitely didn’t seem like a platonic gesture.

Then again, Harry had outright said he didn’t have feelings for anyone besides Nick. So Louis really doesn’t know what to believe anymore, and he’s relieved to have the distraction of lighting up again so he won’t drive himself crazy trying to figure it out.

“Right, so are me and Liam.” Zayn laughs, cuddling in next to him on the bed.

“Just shut up and take this.” Louis orders, tossing the tightly packed bowl over to them.

“That’s what he said.” Harry jokes, and they all share a laugh as the room begins to fill with smoke again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, comments, comments! tell me i'm wonderful, tell me it's the worst piece of crap you've ever read, just let me know what you think so far, please! i love to hear from you guys! :)


	4. Hate to love, love to lust, lust to truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, sorry for the wait! my goal was to try to have an update every week or so, but i've just been so busy with work, ugh. anyways, i've finally got a nice long chapter to make it up to you guys. a bit of smut in this one, too. enjoy~

No one’s around when Louis steps inside the shelter that day, but he’s gotten so used to being there that he has no problem striding across the floor and letting himself into the cat room, where he knows Harry will be.

He finds him in the backyard, kneeling in an awkward position on a soft purple mat, with his back arched backwards and his hands clasped to his ankles.

“Morning, Lou!” He flashes his winning smile.

“Oh, I forgot you do yoga.” Louis notices, sitting himself crisscross on the wicker chair. A spotted cat is curled up next to him and he automatically reaches over to stroke it, feeling its rhythmic purr start up at the gesture.

“Every day.” Harry grins. He gracefully unfolds his body then, to lean forward and press his forehead to the mat, arms outstretched on either side. He’s got a mix of red and orange and yellow flowers in his curls today, and Louis wonders how the thing always manages to stay on his head no matter what he’s up to.

“Guess just ‘cause I’ve never actually seen you do it.”

“I’m usually finished my routine by the time you show up.” Harry’s voice is slightly muffled by the way his face is held down towards the mat.

“You never mention it, either.”

“S’not really relevant.” Harry shrugs.

Slowly, he rises up to sit on his haunches and then eases into a stand, sort of. His body is still bent at the waist; torso laid completely flat against his legs as he hangs on to the back of his calves. His arse is high in the air, all rounded and inviting, and it’s all Louis can concentrate on.

“That looks…” He trails off, trying to form a proper thought around the filthy images clouding his brain.

Harry falters, laughing deep and tingly until he can’t hold his balance anymore and falls down right on his arse.

“It’s just yoga, Louis, it’s not supposed to be sexual.” He’s all wild hair and flushed skin, glowing with an aura like sunlight; so gloriously adorable that staring directly at him for too long actually stings a little.

“You’re really flexible.” Louis ignores his comment, mind racing with ideas of the possibilities behind the fact.

“Years of practice will do that to you.” Harry credits.

“Bet it comes in handy sometimes.”

“You ready to find out?” Harry’s smirk is both visible and pronounced.

“No.” Louis says quickly, more as a scold to himself than a denial to Harry. No, he is definitely not ready to find out what it would feel like to have Harry bent over like that, panting and begging and screaming profanities as his cock disappears repeatedly between those pert little cheeks.

“Ouch.” Harry clutches his heart dramatically at the automatic response. “I just meant I could teach you some poses.”

“You did not, you were totally propositioning me.” He accuses.

Harry laughs. “Yeah, but I had to change my tactic to adjust to the cold stab of rejection.”

“So you don’t actually want to teach me, then?” Louis asks, interest piqued.

Harry’s face dimples in delight, tipping Louis off that this is one more bullet on the long list of things he feels so deeply passionate about.

“I’d be happy to, if you really want to learn.”

He wants anything that can make Harry smile like that.

“Please, oh great Yogi Harry, show me the wisdom of your ways.”

“Come, sit.” Harry waves him over, moving off the mat so Louis can take his place on it. He hops off the chair and joins Harry on the ground, sitting himself criss cross as he waits for further instruction.

“First, we need to teach you the basics.” Harry begins, “Breathing and stretching, mostly.”

“You mean I’m not gonna get to learn how to bend over and present my ass to the world yet?”

Harry chuckles in amusement. “As much as I’d love to see that, and god, I would _love_ to, you’d probably break your spine if you tried to do it right away.”

“You’re exaggerating. Looked easy enough to me.” Louis dismisses.

“I’m not, and it’s not.” Harry says sternly. “It’d be bad for your body to even try. You might be able to make it halfway, but it took me months to be able to do it like you just saw, and it still hurts a bit.”

“Hurts?” Louis quirks a brow, “It’s just yoga.”

Harry smacks his arm. “Don’t be a yoga snob! People give it crap all the time, but it’s a serious workout when it’s done right.”

“Oh, it looks very serious.” He patronizes.

“You think I got this body from cardio and weight lifting?” Harry challenges.

“Hadn’t given it much thought, really. Chalked it up to just being blessed by the Gods at birth.”

Harry’s frog faced smirk is back again; the one he gets whenever Louis teases him, like he secretly loves it so much he’s trying to keep his genuine smile hidden but it bleeds through a bit anyways.

“Nope, the Gods don’t get any credit here. This is all yoga’s doing.”

“The Gods deserve some kind of credit.” Louis argues, “You don’t get a face like that from any sort of workout I know of.”

“Fine, we’ll give them credit for my princely good looks, but only that.” Harry says, dramatically flipping his curls to the side.

Louis’ heart stutters as he imagines Harry as a prince with a shiny gold crown and an equally sparkly smile as he waves, high above his loyal subjects, all gathered in the courtyard to hear the royal speech. He’d be more adored than the current Prince Harry, Louis is sure of it.

“If you actually were a prince, do you think you’d wear a traditional crown, or would you keep the flowers?” Louis blurts, needing an accurate image for his fantasy.

Harry deliberates for a moment before settling on an answer. “Dunno. A real crown would be exciting, but I’d miss my flowers.”

“Me too.” Louis agrees. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them. It’d be weird.”

“They don’t grow from my head, you know.” Harry teases.

“Well of course not, but do you ever take them off?”

As if to prove he is actually capable of removing them, Harry reaches up and lifts the halo off his head. He sets it neatly on the ground and works on fixing his hair, shaking his curls out and brushing his fringe to the side. A fluffy white cat comes around to sniff at the petals, and Harry distracts her by rubbing between her ears.

“Only at the end of the day, to sleep.” He admits. “Sometimes I forget though.”

Louis thinks he’s breathtaking either way. Same Harry; same fluffy curls and sunshine smile, just a little more natural and real.

He only realizes he’s staring when Harry asks, “Too weird?”

“No, you’re beautiful.” Louis responds a bit too quickly. He’s never actually said that out loud before, and instantly worries it might be laying it on a bit too thick. His cheeks tint and his eyes settle on Harry’s bare feet so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes.

Harry just leans forward and nestles the crown onto Louis’ head. He takes a moment to arrange the feathered caramel hair around to frame it just right, and then he sits back to admire his work.

“ _You’re_ beautiful.” He grins, proudly.

“Sure I am, with flowers in my hair.”

Harry smiles softly as he reaches out to rub the back of his fingers lightly against Louis’ cheek, gentle and soothing. “No, always. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, really.”

Louis just rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He dismisses, never mind that his heart is soaring.

“It’s true. With or without them, you’re gorgeous.”

He has to remind himself that it’s only friendly; Harry doesn’t mean these things the same way he wants him to. He’s just a naturally affectionate person who loves to make people smile.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” Louis says, effectively ending the debate. There’s a Siamese cat sleeping within his reach, so he focuses on petting it to settle his twisting gut.

“I think I’d go for the regular crown.” He decides after a moment. “You know, if I were a prince.”

“You don’t like the flowers.” Harry pouts.

Louis smiles and puts them back on Harry’s head. “I love them, on you.”

“Flower crown for me then.” Harry chooses. “I’d save the classic one for special occasions.”

Theye’ve drawn a bit of a crowd now as more cats stop by for human interaction. Most of them stick close to Harry, being more familiar and attached to him, and they’re a chorus of purrs as they snake their bodies in his orbit, begging to be petted and played with.

“The kingdom is pleased with your decision.” Louis observes, and they share a laugh.

“Are you part of my kingdom too, or just the cats?”

“I’d be honored to serve under you, Prince Harold.”

“Cool, so that means I get anything I want then?” Harry grins.

“Within reason.” Louis shoots him a look that successfully conveys _no sexual favors_.

“Relax.” Harry laughs. “I just want yoga. You distracted me with the prince question.”

“Oh, right.” Louis says. “You really want to teach me?”

Harry nods like an eager little puppy and Louis thinks he’ll scream a hole in his lungs if this boy gets any more precious.

“Okay, prince. Work your magic. Get me fit.” He says, making a show of settling himself into the mat and devoting his full attention to Harry.

They shoo the cats out of the way so they have room to stretch, and Harry starts explaining that in order to get the full effect, he’ll have to get used to concentrating on syncing his breathing with his movements. They do some light stretching and he makes Louis practice proper inhales and exhales, but they get choppy and half-assed after a while because Louis is impatient to get down to the real thing. He’s actually excited to find out if it’s the workout Harry makes it seem like. He hasn’t had a proper one in years, and if it’s enjoyable he may even stick with it. He thinks he could use a bit of toning.

Eventually, Harry gets into position and orders Louis to follow his lead.

“Downward Facing Dog.” Harry calls it. “It’s pretty much the most basic move ever, but you’ll use it a lot. It’s good for switching between poses, and it really works your arms, legs, and core.”

Louis does his best to imitate him. He gets on his hands and knees and pushes his bum high in the air, making sure his legs are as straight as can be. He can immediately feel the burn in his limbs as they work to support his weight.

“Your back’s not straight,” Harry critiques.

“Neither is the rest of me.” Louis mumbles under his breath to himself, but Harry catches it and laughs, letting his body fall back to a kneel.

“Here, let me help.” He offers. He gets up to place a hand on Louis’ back, lightly pressing it down so it makes a perfect line with his arms. His legs bend in response.

“My legs.” Louis whines. “I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Relax,” Harry soothes, “It’s your first lesson. This is more about just stretching your muscles and getting your body used to the motions. It’ll take a while before you’re able to bend like me.”

“This is bullshit. How is this even a dog?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t know. When they dig holes, I guess?”

“Well that’s what humans have shovels for. And opposable thumbs.”

“Do you want to learn or not?” Harry berates.

“I do, it’s just—”

“Then just shut up and go with it.” He interrupts.

“Yes, your majesty.” Louis obeys.

“How’s it feel?” Harry asks after a couple beats.

“You were right, it hurts.” Louis says, “But not in a bad way. It’s… refreshing.”

Harry stands up and circles him once, surveying his incorrect stance. He moves behind him and Louis watches from upside down as Harry leans over him, hands finding balance on his lower back. The pressure from his pelvis against Louis’ his bum is warm and tempting.

“Harry, I said not today.”

“Hush,” Harry scolds. “I’m just helping you. Straighten your legs against mine.”

He does as told and feels the grind against Harry’s body with the movement, ignoring the venereal tickle it inspires in his belly. Harry leans over further, using his arms to hold Louis’ back flat and stiff too, turning him into a mountain peak, perfecting the pose.

“Ow,” Louis complains.

“Too much?”

“No, good ow. I think. I’d forgotten how long it’s been since my muscles got a proper stretch.” He gets into it, flattening his feet against the mat and leaning slightly forwards, then back, to feel the burn more.

“Louis,” Harry says suddenly, his voice heavy and firm. “Don’t do that again.”

“Why, is it bad for my body?” Louis worries.

“No, it’s bad for mine.” Harry says, and suddenly Louis notices a slight stiffness pressing against the back of his thighs.

He wiggles his backside against Harry’s half-hard cock and smirks at the twitch he feels in response.

“Fuck, Lou. Stop it.” Harry groans.

“You’re the one who’s still on top of me.” Louis points out.

“You haven’t pushed me off yet.” Harry retorts.

“I’m smaller than you. You’re overpowering me.”

“You can’t always play the size card, you’re not _that much_ smaller than me.”

“I bet you didn’t even want to help my form. You just wanted to dry hump my bum, you pervert.” Louis accuses.

“The thought may have crossed my mind.” Harry admits. “But I did honestly want to help you out, too.”

“So I’ll be nice and flexible for our inevitable shagging someday?” Louis guesses, and Harry’s laugh is warm and deep and vibrates through his body, intensifying the tingle in his stomach.

“Glad to hear it’s still a sure thing.” Harry says.

“Goddammit, Harry, how many times have I told you this?” James’ voice suddenly calls from the room, followed by a door shutting behind him as he makes his way outside to join them. “If you insist on bringing your lays to work, at least keep it in the spare room.”

“Despite my best efforts, we’re not doing anything like that,” Harry gripes. He finally backs off and away from Louis, and as relieved as it makes him not to have temptation literally knocking on his backdoor, he also sort of craves the contact again.

“Hey, James.” He says, looking at him upside down, through the space between his legs.

“Oh, it’s just you.” James gives a little wave, “In that case, ignore my last comment. You guys can get it on wherever you want.”

“Good to know.” Louis thanks him, coming down from the pose and settling back onto his haunches.

“Why does he get special privileges?” Harry wonders.

“Because I like him.” James shrugs.

“You like me too.” Harry pouts.

“Yeah, but I _don’t_ like most of your conquests, and I definitely don’t want their naked bums all over the nice furniture that Mrs. Calder paid for out of her own pocket.”

“But my naked bum is okay?” Louis checks.

“Very okay. Brilliant, actually.” James nods. “This furniture should be honored that you choose to sit upon it, even fully clothed.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Harry quips.

“Seems like he’s hired an entire army of civilians to get me into bed with him.” Louis grumbles.

“Wait, are you saying you guys haven’t…” James trails off, but his absurd hand motions make it clear what he’s trying to say. “Yet?”

“Yet.” Harry emphasizes, throwing an arm around Louis’ shoulder and resting his head on the other. “Louis just needs a little time."

“Wow, Harry, I’m impressed. You never keep anyone around this long without a proper shag.” James literally claps for him. “Louis, have you got candy nipples or what? Must be something worth waiting for.”

Louis shrugs. “Apparently ogling my bum when he thinks I’m not looking is enough to keep the animal tame for now.” He meets Harry’s eyes and they share a playful look.

“What I just walked in on was definitely not ogling.”

“It was a yoga lesson.” Harry defends.

“Oh,” Says James, “I didn’t know you were into yoga too.”

“I’m not, really. Today was my first experience with it.” Louis says.

“Ah, and how’d it go? Think you’ll take it up for real?”

“I don’t know. You barged in before we could do more than one pose.”

“Right, a pose. If that’s what he told you it was.”

“Stop, James.” Harry whines. “It was mostly innocent. You’re making me seem like a huge prick.” He groans.

“Bit bigger than average, yeah, but I think huge is a little optimistic.” James smirks, flicking his eyes down to Harry’s pants as if the innuendo wasn’t already perfectly clear in his tone.

Harry scoffs. “Big enough for you that night when—”

“You do it to yourself, Harry.” Louis snaps then, shrugging him off his shoulder. He doesn’t want to find out what happened that night, or how it pertains to James knowing how big Harry is. He’s had enough of talking about sex and Harry’s involvement in it.

“Do what?” Harry blinks.

“Make yourself seem like a prick.”

“You really think I am?” Harry frowns.

“About sex, yeah.” The minute the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. He knows it’s not true; Harry is probably the least likely person ever to treat anyone like a mere sex object, clearly is even friends with most of the people he’s been with. But Louis is just so sick of hearing about this stuff that, true to form, he takes out his frustration on everyone else.

“How’s that?” Harry wants to know.

“Didn’t mean to start a lover’s quarrel,” James’ voice is teasing but quiet, and nobody laughs.

“You treat it like it’s nothing, Harry. You do it all the time, like it’s just another one of your little hobbies. Fucking painting or baking or whatever.”

“Yeah alright, I’m definitely staying out of this one.” James excuses himself and leaves the room without another word and Louis is he’s glad he’s gone. He like James a lot, but can’t really look at him right now, having just found out that even he’s been with Harry before.

“And that makes me a prick?” Harry challenges. “Because I have a lot of sex and I’m not afraid to talk about it? At least I’m actually doing it, not just shaking my ass in people’s faces and then backing down when they want to follow through.”

“I’ve never shook my ass in your face.” Louis snaps.

“No you’re right, just against my dick.”

“You put your dick near it.”

“Whatever, you’re a tease either way.” Harry brushes him off.

Louis scoffs, offended. “I am not. I just like to flirt. You’re the one who always wants to turn it into something more.”

Harry shuts his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. He’s silent for a few heartbeats, and his voice is calm and level when he speaks again.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Louis. We’re friends. Can we just get back to that, please? Being friendly?”

Harry doesn’t like drama at all. He’s not like one of those annoying teenage girls who always _says_ she hates drama, yet always seems to find herself at the very middle of it. It genuinely upsets him when people don’t get along, and Louis can see it in his eyes when he opens them again. He looks distressed, and Louis feels guilty for being the reason.

“Sorry.” He sighs in defeat.

“S’okay. Me too.” Harry complies.

“You’re not a prick. You know I don’t mean it.” Louis feels weak and immature for starting it in the first place. He doesn’t want his petty jealousy to come between them; they _are_ just friends, and they talk about everything else with each other, so why not sex, too? If it’s such a big part of Harry’s life, he’s going to have to learn how to stomach it sooner or later if he wants to keep him around.

“Sometimes.” Harry says quietly.

“No, I never do.” Louis assures. “Not when I act like a knob to you. I just…” _Have a mental illness that puts me through the ringer on a daily basis and makes my moods unstable._

“I know.” Harry says, and Louis panics for a moment because oh god, he knows. “I just…”

Louis goes crazy wondering exactly what he’s thinking, until Harry reaches out and grabs his hand and strokes the back of his palm a few times, gently. They catch each other’s eyes and like telepathy, he gets it. Harry doesn’t always know how to deal with him when he gets snippy. No one really does.

“Harry, why do you like me?” He blurts, keeping his eyes settled on Harry’s bare feet.

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” Harry’s response is automatic.

Louis can think of a million reasons, but all he says is, “People usually don’t.” They used to, but not since he’d started alienating everyone with the same combination of weariness and irritability that he’s afraid is starting to sink in again, now that he’s somewhat used to Harry’s placebo effect.

“You’re kidding.” Harry says, and it isn’t a question. “People _love_ you, Louis. James and El hang around with us whenever they can, they love you so much. And your friends practically revolve around you.”

“My friends have been with me forever, they’re stuck whether they want to be or not.” Louis smiles slightly, but turns serious again in the next instant. “Why do your friends like me, though? Why do you?” _Why does anyone?_

Harry reaches up to cup Louis’ chin and hold his gaze. Softly, lightly, he strokes the side of his face a few times, and Louis hopes he’ll never get over the way his heart stutters every time Harry touches him.

“You’re golden, babe.” Harry says, brushing a stray wisp of hair off his forehead.

His face shifts as a smile forms and his cheeks turn into roses.

“You’re really cute.” Harry offers, “Like a little sunshine fairy I just want to pick up and put in my pocket to carry around and bring me happiness all day.”

Louis looks at him questionably. “You’re high.” He accuses.

Harry busts out laughing.

“And you’re hilarious; you always make me laugh like that.” He says after catching his breath. “You know I never am at work.”

“Must be my fairy magic then.” Louis credits.

“And you’re smart, but not show-offy about it. I don’t even think _you_ know it.” Harry smiles adoringly, but keeps going before Louis can comment again. “You’re always down to smoke with me, which is a rare find. And we like the same things like books and movies and tattoos, and you’re just… really easy to be around. I always know what to expect with you, so it’s comfortable and relaxing. Yet somehow at the same time, I never know what to expect from you, so it’s still exciting. If that even makes sense.”

Louis nods sincerely, thinking he feels the exact same way.

“So it’s not just because you want to fuck me then.” He concludes.

“Is that what you think?” Harry is aghast.

“It just always seems to come back to that when we’re together.” He says. “And please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m honestly just curious, but do you have any friends you haven’t slept with?”

Harry pauses, thinking it over.

“Yours.” He finally says. “But only because Niall is straighter than a surfboard and Zayn and Liam are exclusive. Otherwise, I would’ve tried a long time ago.”

Louis laughs, “Good to know.”

“Can you blame me? Bunch of insanely fit lads, the lot of you.” Harry says. “Have you ever really looked at Zayn? He’s like the love child of John Stamos and Robert Downey Jr.”

“I plea the fifth.” Louis says.

“Oh, don’t pretend you haven’t thought about him that way before.” Harry argues. “I bet everyone who’s ever seen him has thought of him that way before.”

“I plea the fucking fifth.” Louis maintains.

Harry pokes Louis in the side. “I won’t tell Liam.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” He insists again.

“Speaking of Liam, though,” Harry says. “If the two of them ever mention anything to you about wanting to have a threesome, please suggest my name.”

Louis’ jaw falls open. “Really? Have you ever?”

“Not yet. It’s on my bucket list, though.”

“Dream big.” Louis quips.

Harry keeps going. “Gotta give Niall some credit too, he’s a really good sport. I’ve offered to help him explore his sexuality many times before, but somehow he always just flirts his way out of it.”

“Okay, that’s where I draw the line. I am not listening to you tell me about how you hit on one of my best friends. Repeatedly.”

“Shame he’s so set in his ways,” Harry continues anyway, “I’d love to be the one to turn him.”

Louis begins chanting a string of _la la la la la_ while holding his hands over his ears, so he misses the sound of Harry’s laugh, but clearly sees it on his face.

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” Harry forfeits. “But you see my point?”

“That you’re a horny bastard?”

“That I can have friends I don’t sleep with.”

“Just fantasize about sleeping with.”

“Big difference.”

“But you see _my_ point.” Louis retaliates. “You’re admitting to sleeping with a good majority of them. So I don’t think it’s irrational for me to wonder about your motives.”

“I don’t think I’ve made it a secret that I want in your pants.”

“But sometimes I wonder if that’s all you want.” Louis says, making Harry’s face fall, looking disappointed. He tries again, “I just want to know, like, what if it never happens between us?”

“Then I’ll stop answering your texts, pretend I don’t know you in person, and it’ll be like we never met and none of this ever happened.” Harry deadpans, and this time it’s Louis’ turn to look hurt.

“Christ Lou, you really do think I’m a prick, don’t you?”

“I don’t.” He quickly assures him. “I really don’t. I’m just being careful.”

“I think if I were the fuck and chuck type, I wouldn’t tell you about it anyways.” Harry says. “I could be lying to you right now and you’d never know until after I get the good stuff.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “ _The good stuff_? How do you even manage to pull with lines like that?”

“I told you, it’s my adorable charm.” Harry’s cheeks dimple and Louis pokes a finger into the deepest one, his favorite. They share a look that’s full of too much meaning and desire to be comfortable, and Harry’s teeth bite down on his lower lip as he turns his head away.

Louis sighs, feeling the ice of his own rejection through Harry’s silence.

“It’s not like I don’t want to, Harry, I—” Louis cuts himself off, gathering his thoughts. So often he just blurts things out, but Harry deserves a proper explanation for why he can’t sleep with him even though he really, really wants to. “I’m just not into ‘no strings attached’ sex, okay? I like strings. Strings are nice.”

“You don’t need strings.” Harry says. “You need _release_.”

“Oh, so it’s about me now?”

“Well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy it too.” Harry admits. “But I’m already well-fucked. You haven’t even been kissed since we met, and horrifyingly long before that. You need this.”

“You know what’s best for me, huh.” Louis retorts.

“I know that just the idea of going without sex for years makes me want to rip my hair out.” Harry sounds gravely serious. “It’s no wonder you’re so tense.”

“I am not tense.” Louis snaps, proving Harry’s point. “Not everyone is as sexual as you.” He says, more level-headed.

“Oh, yes they are. Most people just aren’t so open about it.”

“And you think I’m ‘most people’?”

“No, I think you’d be pretty open, too.” Harry nods, considering. “If you let yourself actually do anything about it.”

Louis just goes _humph_ , and stubbornly crosses his arms.

“How about just some no strings attached fooling around?” Harry offers, daring to run his finger along the length of Louis’ thigh, stopping to rest a hand at his pelvis. “We don’t have to go all the way, you know… there’s plenty of other things I’d like to do to you.” He pauses, gauging Louis’ reaction, how he’s silent but not making any attempt to stop his advance.

Louis is debating. In all honesty, he’d never even considered that. He definitely thinks about fucking Harry a lot, but even the various foreplay acts involved always lead to a home run. He’s never thought about just touching some bases. And maybe there is some truth to what Harry’s saying. It’s been too long since he’s had that kind of pleasure from something other than his own hand. Harry’s inches a little closer and his eyes are hopeful and his tongue flicks out over his bottom lip and Louis bites his own.

The part of his brain that process logic retreats, letting its place be taken by something that can only register how large and warm Harry’s hand is, and how close it is to his cock. He manages to keep a straight face, but his voice sounds short of breath when he finally responds. “Such as?”

Harry grins, knowing he’s won. Permission granted, he seizes the opportunity to finally palm the bulge in Louis’ pants. Louis sucks in at the contact and his body’s got a mind of its own as his hips lift up into it, begging for more friction.

“Could jerk you till your whole body goes numb,” Harry’s voice is smooth and sultry and he casts a shadow as he shifts to straddle Louis, rubbing him through his jeans. He watches Louis’ face, searching for any sort of protest, but all he finds is fierce lust and a soundless slack jaw.

“D’you want that, Lou?” Harry asks, low and raspy. “Want me to get you off with just my hands? I could do that for you. I’m good with my hands.”

Louis lets out a soft whine, reaching to the back of Harry’s neck, pulling their faces together. The kiss is desperate and sloppy and lights Louis’ whole body on fire as his tongue tastes every inch of Harry’s mouth. He tangles his fingers into the roots of Harry’s hair, clinging so tightly that Harry’s mouth falls open in a gasp that gets lost somewhere deep in their kissing. His lips are needy and obscene as they make their way across Harry’s jaw and down his neck, sucking and nibbling, leaving little marks as he grinds into Harry’s hand, hard and urgent.

“Need to hear it, babe,” Harry says gruffly. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, just fucking touch me already.” Louis demands, lips brushing against the skin of his neck, and that’s all it takes for Harry to undo the clasp on Louis’ jeans, quickly spit in his hand and slip it underneath the elastic of Louis’ pants. He doesn’t waste any time, starting off with a few long, fluid strokes that have Louis’ toes curling and back arching and breaths stuttering instantly.

“What else do you wanna do to me?” He prompts, and Harry’s already prepared with his response, like he was just waiting for the question so he could further spill his guts.

“I could suck you off so good, take it all the way in,” He promises, pumping faster, loving the choppy breaths and little choked squeaks Louis’ giving. “Let you fuck my mouth, if you’re into that. I am. I love it. Love having a nice hard cock slam down my throat, wreck my face. God. Want yours so bad.” Harry grunts.

“Fuck,” Louis pants, because he definitely is into it. Harry with his plump, plush lips fitted around him; mouth hot and slick and full, ruined with sweat and tears as he just takes it and loves every second.

“You could cum in my mouth, or on my face, or both.” Harry continues, flicking his thumb over the tip, slicking his fingers with precome, earning Louis’ whimpers. “Anywhere you want. Just wanna make you cum for me.” His voice loses its rough edge for a moment, sounding desperate, like he doesn’t just want it but _needs_ it, needs Louis’ cum warm and wet down his throat, spraying his cheeks, lips, forehead, creamy specks tainting those beautiful dark tangles.

“Fuck, Harry, I—”

Louis is close and Harry doesn’t slow his motions, thank God. Louis’d slipped his hands underneath Harry’s shirt and now his nails on one hand dig little crescent moons into his brilliant, sinewy back and he’s clinging to those luscious curls for dear life, gasping for air like someone who’s just surfaced after being thrown in the pool. Harry’s pupils are blown and his breath is hot and he leans in for more kisses as he keeps stroking, swallowing Louis’ sounds.

“Could wreck your arse, Lou.” His voice turns hot and dominant again as he plants hungry kisses to Louis’ mouth, chin, jaw, and Louis thinks his skin only feels real where Harry’s lips touch. Harry lingers by his ear and there’s heat coiling in his stomach, he’s so close and Harry’s hand is so quick and sure and all he can really think is moremoremore and Harry gets it, keeps the dirty talk coming relentlessly.

“God, it’s so fucking hot.” Harry talks him to the end. “You know I love it. Wonder what your little hole looks like, all pink and pretty and just begging to be licked and sucked and stretched and fucked.” Louis whines, high and desperate as he leans into Harry’s chest and bites down on his shoulder. Harry pumps him faster, whispering now, low and raspy, breath hot against his skin. “How sweet you’d taste, how tight you’d be for me. My pretty little Louis.”

And _fuck_ , that does it. Louis shoots into his hand and Harry works him through it, pressing kisses on his forehead and telling him how good and pretty he is, responding accordingly to the way his back arches and falls, how his whole body quivers to life before deflating. Harry brings his soiled hand up to his mouth and eagerly licks every bit of it, even sucking off his fingers to make sure he gets every last drop and Louis thinks if there were anything left inside him, that would’ve sent him over the edge again.

He falls back down on the mat, breathless and blissed out and Harry rolls off, falling into place beside him, hair splayed out in the grass, crown bent and broken and missing petals, clothes sticking to the sweat on his skin.

Louis looks over at him, smiling dumbly. “Do you want me to…?” He offers.

“No need.” Harry breathes. “Your sex faces are absolutely perfect.”

“Are you saying you’ve already cum just from watching me?”

“Babe.” Seems to be all Harry can manage now, so Louis spares a glance down and sees the front of his trousers are soaked through.

“Guess I’m not as rusty as I thought. Didn’t even need to touch you.” He smirks, and Harry playfully smacks his shoulder.

“We’re a mess.” Louis says.

“I keep a couple sets of clothes in the dresser, for times like this.”

“You’re filthy.” He accuses, but there’s teasing in his voice.

“Apparently you like it that way.” Harry smiles smugly.

\--

Del Rey’s is one of those dingy clubs that’s not really a club at all, more like a pub that plays music rather than providing sports on big screen tellys. There’s a bar that runs across the back of the room and a stage up front, separated by a decent sized dining room. Tonight, all the tables have been pushed to the edge of the space, turning it into somewhat of a dance floor to accommodate the crowd of people who’ve come just to see Ed play. He’s been doing so many gigs all over lately that he’s actually got a well-deserved fan base now, and Louis feels like he knows an actual celebrity.

Everything is perfect; his mood is off the charts. He’s surrounded by all his friends, there’s fantastic live music, and he’s already had too many beers to care about anything except Harry’s arm draped over his shoulder as they drunkenly sing along. Not loud enough to upstage Ed and Niall, but still drawing attention from others in the crowd.

“I’d like to give a big thanks to my good friends Harry and Louis, for helping us out on that last number.” Ed says into the mic after the final notes of Drunk have floated off and the applause died down.

“And every single one before it.” Niall adds, earning a few collective laughs and whistles.

“Welcome!” They shout at the same time, then look at each other and giggle.

“This next one’s for you two,” Ed grins at them, and they both clap excitedly. “It’s a new song that my buddy Niall and I wrote together,” He addresses the audience again, “And we’ve never played it for anyone before, so let’s hope it’s not a dud.”

The crowd gives a low chuckle.

“To new friendship, new love, and starting over.”

Niall starts to strum his guitar, slow and precise, and Ed has some kind of mini drum in his lap to keep a beat going. Some people start wandering off to the bar or the toilet for a break, realizing it’s going to be a slow number. Others pair off and huddle together, like Liam and Zayn who slowly gravitate together in a sort of dance hug; facing each other with their heads resting on the available shoulder, arms wrapped around the other’s waist.

Ed’s voice kicks in, soft and smooth, and Louis feels a shiver in his spine from the purity of it.

_Settle down with me_

_Cover me up_

_Cuddle me in_

Harry’s arm is still around his shoulder, and he feels a light pressure urging him to move in closer, making his heart flutter. He leans into Harry’s tug, nestling himself in against his side. He smells like cotton and honeysuckle with a hint of booze and _Harry_ , so lovely and familiar.

_Lie down with me_

_And hold me_

_In your arms_

A quiet air falls over the room; there’s a few wankers chatting at the bar, but mostly everyone is focused on the music and the lyrics and the emotion behind it all. Niall and Ed harmonize in such an achingly wonderful way. Ed’s voice is smooth and soft while Niall’s is so strong and sure, and they mix together to create a sound that feels like it belongs on a movie soundtrack for a scene set outside on a cool autumn evening.

_Your heart’s against my chest, lips pressed to my neck_

_I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet_

_And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now_

The song is beautiful and raw and resonates right to Louis’ very core. With every line, he can feel his heart grow a little bigger and a little sadder all at once.

_Kiss me like you wanna be loved,_

_You wanna be loved_

_You wanna be loved_

Ed’s voice rings in his ears as he thinks of Harry’s lips on his and how every time it’s felt like fire, like his body was a dying flame and Harry’s the oxygen it needed to flare up again.

_This feels like falling in love,_

_Falling in love_

_We’re falling in love_

Niall’s lines make his heart yearn when he thinks of how Harry’s smile makes him feel like maybe the world isn’t such a bad place, how his laugh makes him forget his mounds of anxieties, and how there’s no place on Earth that he’d rather be than with Harry, whether it’s doing yoga at the shelter or smoking and watching old sitcom reruns in his room or here, cuddled against his side in a warm embrace.

_Settle down with me_

_And I’ll be your safety_

_You’ll be my lady_

Harry pulls him in closer and Louis buries his face in his chest, so Harry rests his chin on the top of his head. Louis just wants to stay in this moment forever and never have to worry or stress about anything ever again and it breaks his heart to know that he can’t; even more to remind himself that Harry isn’t wishing for any of the same things and this moment will never mean as much to him as it does to Louis.

_I was made to keep your body warm_

_But I’m cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms_

Ed belts the lyric loud and heartfelt, shushing the entire crowd as his voice echoes off the walls, and Louis feels it in every inch of his body. He feels the weight of years wasted, wishing death would take him somehow, so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Of nights spent in limbo, breaking underneath the weight of his sorrow and the helplessness of not being able to remedy the feeling, the urge to claw his heart right out of his chest just to escape it. The ice in his veins, built up from years of cold thoughts and cold stares and cold hearts, melts away in an instant with the song’s accuracy and the coziness of Harry’s body squeezed so close and intimate with his own.

He presses his lips to the skin of Harry’s arm, shuts his eyes and they spend the rest of the song like that, wordlessly connected. Louis is wondering how this could be platonic at all, how Harry could possibly have someone else in his heart when he’s right here; cute apparently, and funny and smart and comfortable but exciting and so so willing. Why can’t that be enough for him?

He suddenly realizes what deep shit he’s in. He likes Harry impossibly too much. He can barely remember what this feeling is like, it’s been so long, but now that it’s here again it’s huge and intense and overwhelming. He wants more than just to fuck Harry someday, he wants to kiss him and cuddle him and hold him and be held by him—like this, but with meaning. He wants Harry to feel the same giddiness he feels at the sound of his laugh, the brightness in his eyes, the touch of their skin.

He knows it can only end in disaster. Ever the expert at keeping his feelings hidden and letting them fester into mental issues, he wonders what kind this one will manifest as. Probably just another reason for him to want to quit living—unrequited love. For his best friend. His best friend that he’s just started a sexual relationship with. What a fucking cliché. A wave of nausea rolls through his stomach at how pathetic it feels.

He pulls away at the end of the song and dashes for the bar, leaving Harry in the middle of the dance floor with a dazed look on his face.

He orders three vodka shots at once and downs them one after another, finishing off the third just as Harry catches up to him.

“Whoa, slow down, Lou. You’ll kill yourself at that rate!” He’s only joking, but Louis laughs cold and dark at the irony.

“Are you okay?” Harry’s instantly concerned, noticing his change in mood that easily. He hates that it’s so simple for Harry to pick up on his shifts. It’s easier to hide from other people, but Harry always seems to know when there’s something up.

“Fine,” Louis manages, “That last song just made me realize I’m not as drunk as I want to be.”

Harry chuckles. “Why? I thought it was sweet.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. _So sweet and so romantic and so painfully fucking accurate._

“Well, if you’re getting pissed tonight then so am I.” Harry says, waving the bartender over to fix them another round of shots. “All for one and one for all, yeah?”

After two more for Louis and five more for Harry (“So I can catch up, no way I’m letting you out-drink me”), Harry is leaning over on Louis’ shoulder, poking at his face and trying to get him to brighten up.

“Louiiiiis,” He sings, tracing a butterfly into the soft skin of his cheek.

“Harrrry,” Louis sings back.

“Why are you sad, babe?” Harry wonders.

Louis stiffens. “I’m not.”

“You are. I can tell. Your eyes don’t sparkle when you get like this.”

“Drunk?” Louis supplies, taking a sip of the pint he’d ordered as a chaser.

“No. Like this.” Harry says again, and Louis knows what he means and that he’s just had too many to be able to properly explain it.

“Do my eyes usually sparkle?” He asks as a distraction.

Harry nods vigorously, happily. “Yeah. Are they real? They’re so pretty, I sometimes wonder.”

“I don’t wear contacts, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is. And I’m glad. They’re pretty.”

“You’ve said.”

“You’re pretty.” Harry says.

“You’re prettier.”

Harry shakes his head. “No. You’re a gumdrop.”

“A gumdrop?” Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. Sweet and squishy and colorful and cute and I want to eat you up.”

“Not sure if being squishy is a compliment, really.”

“It is. You’re soft like a fluffy little pillow. I love your curves.”

“Pillows don’t have curves.”

“My pillow does.” Harry grins, leaning his head on his shoulder and cuddling fondly.

“How many pillows do you sleep with?” He wonders.

“Two.” Louis answers, “You’ve seen my bed.”

“I sleep with four, but I could always use another.” He looks up at Louis from under his eyelashes and bats them a few times.

“You slick bastard, I didn’t even see that one coming.” Louis smirks, and Harry is so happy to have gotten even half a smile out of him that he lights up.

“I mean it though. If you wanna be my fifth pillow.”

“I know you mean it.” Louis says.

“But you won’t.”

“No.”

“Don’t you want to try some of that stuff I told you about earlier?”

“Not tonight.” Louis says curtly. He doesn’t think sex with Harry will do much to help him feel any better about falling in love with Harry.

“Right, you’re sad. Sorry. You’re just so pretty.”

“I’m not sad.” Louis maintains. He knows he is though, and that he’s being a bummer because of it. But all he can think about is how much he wishes Harry were interested in actually sleeping together, rather than just fucking. How nice it would be to spend the night curled against his chest, cocooned in his burly arms, drifting off to nothing but the sound of his heartbeat and short little sleepy breaths in his ear.

He takes another swig from his pint.

“But the sparkle is still gone.” Harry frowns. “No sparkle means sad Louis.”

“I’m not sad, Harry, really. Don’t worry about me.”

Harry hides his face in Louis’ shoulder. “I do worry about you.”

He feels guilty, knowing Harry doesn’t usually worry about _anything_. It’s one of the things he admires about him. He’s so calm and chill all of the time, always able to just let things roll off his shoulders, rather than wasting his energy fretting over useless matters.

“Come on, there’s no need for that.” He nudges him to show his face again. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re little, remember? You said.”

“Yeah, I’m littler than you. But I’m a tough cookie.”

“A tough gumdrop.” Harry corrects.

“Doesn’t have the same ring.” Louis dismisses.

“A tough pillow.” Harry tries. “A tough gumdrop pillow. Gumdrop pillow sunshine fairy.”

“Are you trying to emasculate me?”

“Do you feel emanscultated?”

“Emasculated.” Louis corrects, trying to hide his smile at Harry’s made-up drunk word. “And yeah, a bit. ‘Gumdrop pillow sunshine fairy’ isn’t exactly the manliest nickname I’ve ever been given.”

“You are manly.” Harry assures, looking up, stroking the stubble on his cheek for emphasis. “But you’re cute too. Cute and pretty and manly and pretty.”

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Who says gumdrops and fairies can’t be manly anyways?” Harry whines.

“I don’t know.” Louis shrugs. “Society.”

“Fuck society.” Harry says.

“Not without a condom.” Louis advises, making Harry giggle.

“You can call me princess, if you want. Instead of prince. I don’t mind.” Harry says.

“Am I calling you prince now? I wasn’t aware.”

“I am a prince. A flower crown prince, remember? And you’re part of my kingdom. So you have to listen to me, gumdrop.” He pokes Louis in the side.

“As you wish, Princess Harold.” Louis complies.

“Princess Harold.” Harry preens, beaming. “Yeah. I love that. I’d rather be a princess than a prince any day.”

“Something you’re not telling me, princess? Is there a little lady trapped inside that yoga-sculpted body of yours?”

Harry frowns. “Don’t joke about that. Serious issue.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” He’s smiling again, just like that. Louis wishes he could go from upset to happy so easily. He can go from happy to upset like that, but never the other way around.

“M’a boy though.” Harry clarifies. “A man. A man who likes flowers and kittens and fairies and wants to be a princess. And that’s okay.”

“You’re right.” Louis agrees wholly. Maybe being called a gumdrop fairy or whatever isn’t so bad, if it’s coming from Harry. At least he means it in an entirely positive way.

“You’re still sad.” Harry says, like a reminder to himself to ask why.

“I’m fine.” Louis assures him.

“What does fine mean?” Harry wonders.

“I… it just means, you know.” Louis shrugs. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Harry imitates Louis’ tone, but his voice is so deep that it sounds silly trying to mimic the higher octave.

“Was that really necessary?” Louis asks.

“Was that really necessary?” Harry repeats.

“Harry.”

“Harry.”

He wasn’t at all bothered by Harry’s drunk rambling, in fact it was kind of amusing until now. He sits and sips his beer, avoiding speech so Harry won’t have anything to copy. But then he just starts copying Louis’ movements instead; leaning his forearms on the bar, taking a sip of his own whenever Louis does, scratching an itch on his face the same time Louis does.

“Are you five?” Louis snaps.

“No. M’seven.” Harry says immediately and Louis has to hold back a smile at how fucking adorable he looks when he says it, all wide-eyed and innocent, like an actual seven year old.

The music has changed now, back to generic club hits and he realizes they missed the end of Ed and Niall’s set. He scans the room and notices them, along with Liam and Zayn and a few others he doesn't recognize, all sat at a table off to the side of the stage, beers in hand, laughing together. He thinks maybe they should go join them, but the idea makes Louis feel tired. He doesn’t feel like trying to socialize and be happy tonight. Harry is the exception, because he _knows_ Louis is in a shit mood (even if he won’t admit that to him) so he doesn’t have to pretend.

“Come dance with me.” Harry squirms in his seat.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“It’ll make you feel better.” Harry insists.

“No, it really won’t.” He doesn’t like dancing much to begin with, and especially not in clubs, with hoards of strange people grinding against him, trying to grab handfuls of his ass and whatnot.

Harry’s face falls. He looks at Louis with desperation in his eyes and it shows how hard he’s trying to make him feel better, but that just makes him feel worse for ruining Harry’s good time.

“You go, though.” He encourages. “I’ll watch.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.” Harry pouts, tugging on his sleeve now, attempting to pull him away from the bar.

“It is, go on.” Louis manages a small smile. “I want to see how you move.”

That’s all it takes for Harry to hop off his stool, eager to please.

“Okay, feel free to join in whenever you want,” He whispers close to Louis’s ear, slowly dragging his hand off his shoulder as he pulls away and practically skips towards the floor.

Louis watches as Harry falls into the rhythm of the music, swaying his hips enticingly, thrusting suggestively and waving his arms. He actually looks like a ridiculous fool, but he’s so genuinely delighted to be dancing (if that’s what you could even call it) that it ends up being really endearing. Louis chugs his beer like he’s trying to drown his fondness in it.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to draw a crowd, which isn’t surprising all things considered. Eventually he gets up to three women grinding against him, and Louis’ fists clench around his glass as he grudgingly studies the scene.

Harry’s standing behind a tall blonde with her skirt hiked up to impossible heights to make her seem leggier than she actually is. There’s no space between her ass and his groin as she gyrates into him, and given the way his hand is splayed out on her overly tanned thigh and how he’s biting his bottom lip while he blatantly eye-fucks her senseless, he’s got no complaints. The two others move with their backs against and on either side of him, forming a sort of human barrier keeping him closely pressed in the middle of the group. Always the gentleman, he manages to watch them too, equal amounts of lust flashing behind his pupils.

Louis wonders if he even remembers his presence, or if the alcohol has really done its job, making him forget that he started out dancing _for him_ , not _with them_.

He turns his stool back to face the bar and fumes silently, cursing himself for urging Harry to go dance on his own. He knows he could take their place if he wanted, easily slide his way between them and Harry would probably wave them off, desperate to focus on the standard public foreplay that would lead to getting Louis into bed later.

But he can’t, and he hates himself for it. If he lets this afternoon become habit and they end up fooling around more, it’s going to blow up in his face. These friends with benefits things never work out when actual feelings are involved. So why can’t he be satisfied with just Harry’s friendship anymore?

Harry’s voice interrupts Louis’ jealous rage, as he slides his arms around Louis’ waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Lou, come dance with us,” He slurs. Louis can’t be imagining that he seems drunker than before he started dancing, but the sweet petals in his hair are so close to his nose that he can’t smell the booze anymore.

“Yeah Lou, come dance with us.” One of the brunettes giggles, leaning her back against the bar to puff her chest out and put her cleavage on display, as if that would do anything to influence his decision at all.

“You guys looked plenty happy out there without me.”

“Oh, but we’d be much happier with you,” The other girl says, batting her eyelashes.

“Doubtful.”

“Harry, what’s with your friend here?” The blonde pokes her head over his other shoulder. “What kind of guy refuses a dance with three hot girls? Is he gay or something?”

Harry just laughs, extra loud because of his proximity to Louis’ ear.

“He is a pretty fairy.” He nudges the side of Louis’ face with his nose.

“Fuck off, Harry.” Louis snaps, shrugging out of the embrace.

Harry blinks dramatically and recoils, surprised by his sudden harshness.

“He’s just in a stink mood tonight, I guess.” He finally sighs, wrapping his arms around two of the women’s waists, the third right behind them as they retreat back to the dance floor. “Come ladies, we’ll have fun without him.”

The words sting coming from Harry, normally always so kind and caring towards him. Hell, the kid had just wasted half the night trying to cheer him up, and even though he’s mad at him now, he did appreciate the effort.

He figures this counts as the first warning sign that Harry is starting to get annoyed with his random bursts of gloom. He finishes off his drink, ignoring the idea that it’s only a matter of time now before he’s had enough and gives up for good.

Niall comes over and playfully shoves against Louis’ shoulder in greeting.

“Hey man, you gonna come join us now? We were tryin’ t give you guys some cake time.”

“Cake time?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, you know. Coupley, flirty shit.”

“Oh. That’s a stupid phrase. And we’re just friends.”

“Y’alright?” Niall checks.

“No.” He admits, finally. He just wants to go home to bed and not face the world for the next few days. Or weeks. Or whatever. “Can we get out of here?” He pleads.

“Sure, man. If you want.” Niall says easily, and Louis is so grateful for him in that moment. Niall is always so understanding and accommodating, never pressuring Louis into talking about anything unless he wants to, knows when he just needs somebody to be there for him. “Don’t think any of us are good to drive right now, but we’ll get a cab.”

“Not them, please.” Louis says softly. “Just us. I just. Need to go. Now. And I don’t want to be alone, but I can’t leave Harry here alone, either. He’s probably going home with some skinny bitch anyway, but. In case he doesn’t.” Louis just blurts it all out and feels like that’s perfectly okay to do, especially when Niall starts rubbing his back in comfort.

He doesn’t say anything, but it’s nice to just have him there, in caring little brother mode.

Louis pays for his drinks and they slip out of the place without letting anyone know. They’re lucky enough to catch a cab right away, and twenty minutes later, Louis’ settling into bed and pulling the covers up over his head.

“You wanna talk?” Niall offers, plopping himself down his own bed across the room.

“I want to puke.” Louis says.

Niall chuckles lightly. “Can ya make it to the bathroom, or should I get a bucket?”

“Bucket.” Louis decides. His bed is safe and warm and he doesn’t want to leave it.

“Okay.” Niall gets up and comes back minutes later, bright blue bucket in hand. Louis yanks it away as soon as it’s offered, shoves his face in and wretches his insides up until his stomach hurts from how hollow he feels. He’s not really sure if it’s just because he had too much to drink or because he can’t shake the image of Harry touching those girls tonight, fucking them later, and the knowledge that he’s the one who pushed him away in the first place. He just can’t handle any of it right now.

Once he’s sure there’s nothing left, he brushes his fringe out of his eyes and wipes some of the sweaty sheen off his face. He waits a couple moments just for good measure, and then finally hands the heavy bucket back to Niall.

He makes a face as he looks in at it and catches a whiff.

“Feel better?” He checks.

“No.” Louis says.

“Sorry.”

“Thanks for coming home with me.” Louis is sincere. “And not asking any questions. And taking care of me.”

“Always happy to help, mate.” Niall says as he leaves the room to dispose of Louis’s mess.

When he’s gone, Louis takes three Zoloft and a Xanax because he’s drunk and upset and hopes it’ll calm him down and then knock him out for a nice long, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never forget how much i love comments and feedback, yay! and even if you don't feel the need to leave something, i still appreciate you for just being a reader <3


	5. I'm right here, when ya gonna realize?

Louis spends the next day in bed. His friends all stay home to make sure he’s okay, periodically peeking in his room to see if he needs anything. He’s asleep half the time, but during his conscious moments he only feels guilty that they’re wasting a perfectly good Saturday on him.

At one point, he catches part of a muffled conversation through the walls.

“Pretty sure it’s got somethin’ t do with Harry, but he didn’t wanna talk about it, so I didn’t ask.” Niall says.

“Fuck, I’ll kill him.” Zayn sounds pissed.

“Zayn, come on.” Liam scolds. “Harry’s a good guy. He obviously cares about Louis. They probably just had a fight or something.”

“Sorry. You’re right.” Zayn sighs. “It’s just that he was doing so well and I thought…”

“Yeah. I know.” Liam soothes. “I’m worried, too.”

“Give it a couple days. Maybe they’ll work it out.” Niall chips in. “Besides, he’s never gone down without a fight before.”

Louis feels a small sense of pride that Niall has such faith in him, but it’s gone in an instant once he realizes how easily he _is_ going down without a fight. He feels weak and horrible and pathetic for letting a stupid guy have this much effect on his mood, but all he can think about is how perfect yesterday was, until it wasn’t, and how hard he’d worked to push Harry away last night, and how well it worked.

The idea of facing the world repels him. He just wants to hide under the covers and ignore how fucked up he is, or at least rewind time and stop himself from _acting_ so fucked up, but neither of those things are possible so he pops some pills and they don’t help at all (they hardly do anymore; he thinks he might need a higher dosage) so he just sleeps them off.

Harry doesn’t text or call or come over.

Sunday he’s at least able to get up, but he feels sluggish and drained even though he’s slept for almost 24 hours straight. Zayn and Liam invite him to tag along to the tattoo shop, but he really doesn’t feel like dealing with their mushy lovey dovey bullshit, so he passes. Niall offers to stay home with him again, but he can’t stand the idea of his friends missing out on their own lives because of him. So he tells him to go have fun, assures him that he’ll be okay alone, and just wastes the day on the couch in front of the telly, watching a whole marathon of America’s Next Top Model. He tries his best not to wonder where Harry is or who he’s with and especially not what he’s doing or why he still hasn’t heard from him.

Monday, his phone wakes him up at 2 in the afternoon and his heart jumps and his stomach twists, thinking it must be Harry, finally wondering where he’s been. He’s a little disappointed when it turns out to be Lottie checking up on him, but only a little. He hasn’t seen her since her birthday and is suddenly overcome with eagerness to talk to her again, and guilt for almost completely forgetting about her and the rest of his family lately.

She says she misses him too, so he drags himself out bed and swings by his old house to pick her up after school for an ice cream date. She wants to know everything she’s missed since they last saw each other, so he tells her about losing his job and quitting school and then the rest is HarryHarryHarry. By the time he’s done talking, they’re already on their second sundae.

“I think you should just tell him how you feel.” She says, looking entirely too serious for a thirteen year old girl.

“Did you not listen to a word I just said?” Louis is appalled.

“I did. I listened to all of it.” She takes a bite of vanilla with some chocolate sauce on top. “Which is exactly why I think you should tell him. He’s obviously into you, too.”

Louis shakes his head. “He’s not. He told me he hasn’t liked anyone since his last boyfriend.”

“And you told him you haven’t liked anyone since your last girlfriend, yet here we are.” She retaliates.

“He’d never go for someone like me anyway. Not seriously. I’m just a friend that he wants to fuck, but that’s no different from any of his others.”

“Stop it.” She scolds. “You’re awesome and fun and he totally likes you. From what you’ve told me it sounds like you guys are already dating. Or like, soon to be.”

“How’s that?” Louis takes a bite of strawberry.

“Well, at first it sounded friendly. Like, you guys just hung out a lot and got to know each other and stuff. But then he started touching you, like putting his arms around your waist and caressing your face? That’s not normal. And you say he calls you pretty. And all those dumb pet names. Babe is bad enough, but gumdrop fairy? I might just puke up my ice cream all over this table.”

Louis chuckles. “I felt the same at first, but now I don’t know. It feels kind of special that I even get a nickname.”

“See!” She shrieks. “Friends don’t give friends cutesy names like that.”

“But he was drunk,” Louis argues. He can’t let her convince him there are feelings on Harry’s side, because the better part of him _knows_ it’s a lie and letting himself think it’s true would only result in making a fool of himself and probably ruining their friendship. “He was just being purposefully ridiculous to cheer me up. He’s probably forgotten all about it by now.”

“A drunken heart speaks a sober mind.” Lottie quotes.

“No, Harry’s just like that with people. He’s really affectionate.” Louis considers that. “I mean, he touches me more, like the face strokes and stuff, but we’re just friends. It’s platonic.”

“‘My platonic best friend just likes to touch my face and give me pet names and wants to have sex with me.’” Lottie mocks. He glares unpleasantly at her but she just smiles smugly back.

“What do the guys think?” She wants to know.

“They’ve already come up with a couple name for us.” Louis grumbles.

“Lourry?” Lottie looks hopeful, like she’s been tossing around ideas in her head and that’s the one she chose to settle on.

“Larry.” He corrects.

“Crap, that’s even better.” Lottie snaps her fingers in frustration. “A real name, like the two of you combined are the same person. That’s so cute!”

“Aw, come on, don’t you start ganging up on me too.”

“Sorry Lou, but to me it seems like you guys are perfect for each other.” She takes another bite of vanilla, swallowing happily. “Do I get to meet him? He sounds lovely.”

“You don’t even know.” Louis can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, but it doesn’t last long when he remembers their falling out.

“But…” He sighs. “I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked it up already. He hasn’t talked to me since Ed’s gig.”

“Well yeah, cause you told him to piss off and then left without him.” She points out. “He probably thinks you’re still mad. Call him _._ ”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just can’t.”

“Louis.” Lottie’s voice is serious in that berating motherly way and it’s crazy because she’s so much younger than him, yet she seems way past her years.

“I can’t, Lottie, okay? I just can’t. He… If he doesn’t want to see me anymore, then, I guess that’s just how it should be. He’s better off without me anyway. I don’t want to ruin him.”

“Now _that’s_ how you mess it up.” She warns. “You were drunk and upset and you said something you shouldn’t have, but if you just apologize I’m sure he’ll understand. If you don’t, he’ll just keep thinking you really meant it.”

“Maybe I did. You just used that drunken heart line on me.”

Lottie laughs. “You didn’t though, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.”

“Whatever. I’m not going to call him. If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me.” Louis is adamant. Even the idea of calling Harry after the way he acted towards him and how crushed the guy looked when Louis sent him away… his insides churn and he feels like he might throw up again.

“Lou, I love you, but sometimes you can be really stupid.” She scoops a big bite of chocolate and whipped cream into her mouth.

“Love you too, kid.” He dismisses.

\--

_You still mad at me?_

The text came almost as soon as he’d returned home from dropping Lottie off and plopped himself down on the couch in front of the TV again. He’s not even watching anything, he’s just been staring at the words on his phone for almost half an hour, not sure what to say or how to say it.

He’s certainly not mad anymore, just frustrated, mostly with himself, and he’s sad and tired and he misses Harry so much there’s an actual ache in his chest from it and he doesn’t know how to tell him how sorry he is for acting like such an asshole towards him. He just wants to make up and go back to being attached to Harry’s hip again, but there’s a reason he’s only got a handful of friends and it’s probably because of how shit he is at dealing with people and talking about feelings.

Harry’s waiting for an answer though, and he has to say _something_ or else things between them will only get even more messed up, so he finally sighs and types back:

Never was.

Harry’s reply is almost instant:

_Don’t lie. Sorry for being an annoying drunk._

Sorry for being a moody drunk.

_All is forgiven. :)_ Harry says, and then a few seconds later:

_Miss you. Can I come over? .xx_

His heart speeds up and he has to remind himself again that it’s not meant that way. They went from spending almost all day, every day with each other to not even speaking once for a whole weekend. It’s only natural to miss someone after that.

He texts back:

Of course. Miss you too.

He’s giddy with the idea of seeing Harry again after what’s felt like unreasonably too long. He’d forgotten to take his meds when he woke up, so he swallows a few pills then to make sure he stays this _up_ , and then he looks himself over and realizes he’s been wearing the same shirt for two days and hasn’t showered in just as long. It’s a look that suits Harry, but he isn’t a fan of it on himself, so he hops in the shower for a quick rinse.

He’s just getting out of the bathroom when Harry lets himself in the flat. He’s radiant and sunny as usual, chocolate tresses framing his face, highlighting the sage of his eyes and the crimson rose petals on his head.

Louis’ hair is shaggy and damp, his skin flushed pink from the heat of the water, and there’s only a towel around his waist, but Harry catches sight of him and beams so widely it doesn’t even look comfortable. The dimples appear and Louis can’t resist smiling himself, realizing how deprived he’s been for the past few days.

“Aw, you didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.” Harry teases as he sets some things down on the kitchen table.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I did, though. If you’d have seen me before, you would’ve been scared off for good.”

“You didn’t scare me off.” Harry says, closing the distance between them so he can brush the hair on his forehead back.

“So not talking to me for three days was just some kind of experiment, then?”

“Hey, you didn’t talk to me either!” Harry accuses.

“I know. Sorry.” His eyes fall to the ground, focusing on two pairs of bare feet. Harry’s are almost embarrassingly large in comparison to his own.

“S’okay, no worries. I was just trying to give you some space, or whatever.” Harry shrugs. “But do you have any idea how hard it was to leave you alone for that long? I finally cracked today; being at the shelter without you is maddening. I don’t even remember what I did to get through a shift before.”

Louis pauses for a moment, letting Harry’s words hang in the air as he absorbs them. He feels so warm and comforted, knowing that he’s been missed just as much as he was missing, even if it is in a different way.

When it looks like Harry’s about to say something more, he beats him to it.

“Go on then,” He nudges his head up against the large hand still playing in his hair. “Tell me more about how horrible and awful and boring your life is without me.” He grins.

Harry laughs, warm and tingly, pressing his lips to the top of Louis’ head, where his hairline meets his forehead and Louis feels it in the tips of his toes. Harry’s so close now that Louis can smell strong floral from the roses; his very favorite of Harry’s crowns.

“I missed you a lot.” Harry’s voice is slow and serious as he whispers against his skin. “Almost forgot just how cute you are. Almost.” He traces his fingers along the outline of his face, along his jaw, down his neck, over his shoulder, raising goose bumps along the way and finally settling lightly into the pattern of his biceps.

“I’m not cute.” Louis pouts. “I’m manly and rugged. Hot and fuckable.”

A smile spreads on Harry’s lips. “Very true.” His hand moves to Louis’ chest, circling his pecs and dragging its way down his stomach, resting on his hips this time.

“So you agree then?” Louis asks, ignoring the fluttering in his belly.

“Hm?” Harry’s eyes are fixed on the smooth skin peeking out just above the towel.

“You think I’m manly and rugged?”

“I was talking more about the hot and fuckable part, but sure.” His finger slips underneath the hem of the towel and gives a tiny tug against it.

Louis stops Harry’s hand with his own.

“Say it.” He demands.

“Say what?” Harry asks, pupils blown with lust already, willing to do anything he asks as long as there’s a reward.

“Say I’m manly and rugged.”

Harry inches close enough that Louis’ cock involuntarily twitches when it meets his, even through thick layers of fabric and denim.

“That’s definitely manly.” Harry says of the reaction, leaning down to grab Louis’ bottom lip between his, molding their mouths together in a slow, heavy kiss. Harry’s tongue is happily welcomed into Louis’ mouth and he brings his hands to the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in closer, like even the nonexistent distance between them is still far too much.

He’s afraid Harry might be able to tell how much he likes him when they kiss like this, like he’s sure he’ll never be able to get enough. To him it feel like his body’s being sliced open and everything’s just pouring out; he may as well be shouting _god, you’re so beautiful and you drive me insane and I missed you so much it’s like my heart just flat lines without you_.

He feels another tug on the towel around his waist, urging him to take it off, and his stomach drops into his knees when he realizes it means something so vastly different to Harry than it does to him.

He breaks it off and pulls away, still not used to the idea of being just another hook up. It was better last time, when Harry wanted _him_ and only him and it was just about making him happy, not like this when it could’ve been any person standing half naked in front of him and he’d probably still want to make out and then fuck right there in the foyer.

“Tease.” Harry’s tongue flicks across his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a half-smirk.

“Slut.” Louis smirks back, glad they can joke about that now. “What’s that?” He wonders, nodding to the container Harry had set down on the table when he walked in.

“I brought you cupcakes!” Harry’s face delights as he turns to lift the top off, revealing about a dozen of them, each one perfectly piled with a dollop of white icing and a different colored gumdrop in the center. Louis snorts.

“Oh god, you remember that.” He groans.

“‘Course I do.” Harry grins. “I’m actually rather proud of that one, it’s the perfect comparison.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I suppose it beats being a fairy.”

“Glad you think so cause this one’s sticking, gumdrop.” Harry ruffles his hair.

“As you wish, princess.”

Harry is absolutely beaming.

“Leftovers?” Louis assumes, changing the subject. Sometimes Harry shows up to work with things like cookies and cake for everyone, just because he felt like baking something the night before and he knows they’ll enjoy it and he gets off on making people smile.

“Nope, these are special, just for you.”

He blinks, stunned. “You made these for me?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d share. We’ll need something to cure the munchies. Come on.” Harry leads the way into Louis’ room, sets the cupcakes down on the nightstand, and makes himself comfortable on the bed. Louis pulls on a shirt and some boxers as Harry digs around in his bag for the bowl and baggie.

“Oh!” He cries, “And yeah, I got you something else too.”

Before Louis can wonder aloud what it is, Harry pulls a clear cd case out of the bag and tosses it to him. The disc inside is labeled “Louis #1”.

“Is this… Did you make me a mix cd?” His stomach comes alive with butterflies and rainbows and he’s so delighted he wishes he took gymnastics when he was younger so he’d be able to do a triple backflip right now. He _loves_ Harry’s infinitely wide taste in music, and the fact that Harry wants to share it with him.

“You like my music, right? I hope I didn’t misinterpret, but you kind of seem to get lost sometimes when we listen. Even in the senseless pop songs or like, the rap stuff about butts and cars.” He chuckles.

“You noticed.” Louis fights a smile.

“I always notice you.” Harry’s nonchalant, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Louis wonders, settling Indian style across from him on the bed.

“Am I not usually?”

“No, you are, but you don’t usually bring me presents for no reason. Or at all, really.”

“Well maybe I want to start.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugs. “If you don’t want it, give it back. I’ll give it to someone who appreciates it.”

“No!” Louis hugs it to his chest protectively, like it’ll be yanked out of his grasp otherwise. “I do appreciate it, a lot. I want it. Thank you.”

Harry laughs at his dramatic reaction. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s just random, is all.”

Harry shrugs again, but Louis is still staring suspiciously. People are only overly nice to him for one reason, and it’s when they know he’s been having a rough time so they go out of their way to lift his spirits.

“You’ve not been feeling well lately, so I want to make you feel better.” Harry confirms.

“But I’m not sick?” Louis raises an eyebrow, playing dumb. His stomach twists, worrying that Harry’s figured everything out and knows he’s depressed and hopelessly falling for him and this is some sort of pity present or warped goodbye.

“I know. Just in a bit of a lousy mood, yeah?” Harry guesses, quoting him from the last time.

Louis sighs, keeping his eyes focused on the cd in his hands so he doesn’t have to reply. Harry’s handwriting loops in some places and it’s sharp in others and it’s quirky and lovely and hard to make any sense of, just like the rest of him.

“So I want you to not be in a lousy mood.” Harry reaches out to push a lock of his hair behind his ears and pull his face up by his chin. His eyes are wide and deep and Louis still isn’t used to the way they seem to see right through him. “A happy Louis is a happy Harry.”

“And an unhappy Louis?”

“Not in my kingdom.” Harry warns. He waves his finger in the air like a wand and then points it at Louis when he says, “I hereby banish you forever.”

“Please, not forever.” Louis recites, immediately catching the Peter Pan reference and following suit.

“Well, for a week then.” Harry declares, and they burst out laughing.

“Really though, no more Sad Louis.” He pulls him in for a cuddle and Louis settles in his lap with his back against his chest and he feels safe and warm with Harry’s arms around him. He’s enveloped in the scent of his hair, soft and sweet and comforting, and he thinks maybe his sad self actually is gone for now.

“For now, at least. I’ll bake you anything you want, I’ll make you a hundred mixes, I’ll ditch work and we can sit on our asses and be lazy potheads and stuff our faces and marathon Disney movies in our underwear every day if it’ll make you smile again.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Louis says. “But just tomorrow, okay? Then you can go back to work and I’ll meet you there as usual.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Harry shifts a bit when he lights the bowl and breathes in, and Louis notices his feet again. They’re crusty and dirty and conventionally horrid but he thinks they’re cute anyway.

“You got new tattoos.” He says, catching the writing tucked into the crease of his ankles. “‘Never gonna dance again’?”

“Song lyrics.” Harry explains, letting out the smoke and handing it down to him.

“I don’t recognize them.” Louis says before he takes his turn.

“Good. It’s on the mix I made you. You’ll like it, I think.”

Of course he’ll like it, because it’s Harry’s music and it’s on Harry’s skin so it’ll remind him of Harry and things are always better when they do.

“So you visited Zayn this weekend but not me?” He pouts.

“Nah, Ed did these. After you left us Friday I hung ‘round with the guys and man, it was really cool talking to him again. We used to be pretty close, ya know. So it was nice catching up. I kind of stuck with him all weekend.”

Louis wants to ask if that means he didn’t bring any drunk girls home that night, and also if him and Ed fooled around, but he’s afraid it might start something again and he doesn’t want there to be any tension between them right now. He likes that it’s just Louis and Harry, being friends and hanging out. Like it should be. He’s smart enough not to risk fucking that up again so soon.

“What happened?” He wonders instead. “I mean, how come you’re not close anymore?”

Harry shrugs. “We are, I guess. It really was just like old times, so the closeness is still there. But before, he just got busy with his music and then I met you, so we both had other things keeping us occupied and forgot to stay in touch.”

“Ah, so I’m his replacement then.” Louis jokes.

“No, not even close.” Harry softly strokes his forearm, making the hair rise there. “If anything, he was the replacement for _you_. I couldn’t just sit around the house missing my best guy all weekend, I had to get out and do something.”

Louis remembers his sister’s words about how the pet names count as a sign that Harry’s into him. He’s never been called ‘my best guy’ before, and it honestly sounds like something someone would call a boyfriend. He can swear he’s heard the phrase in a chick flick or something before.

“Funny. That’s what I did.” He blurts.

“You didn’t do anything all weekend?” Harry’s brows are furrowed.

“I did spend some time with my sister today.” He offers, a distraction from mistakenly admitting how pathetically lonely and sad he’d been just hours earlier.

“The one you got Shrimp for? Lottie, right?” Harry checks, and he nods. “How is she? And how is he?”

“She’s great.” He says, smiling softly. “Sometimes I forget how much I miss her until I’m actually with her, but it’s nice. Every time I see her she looks more grown up, and she’s so smart and mature and I’m just really proud of her. The cat’s doing well too, from what she tells me. Definitely the best present ever, she’s totally in love with him.”

Harry smiles warmly, brushing another feather of hair from Louis’ forehead. “You should bring her to the shelter someday, I bet she’d love that.”

“I think she would.” Louis nods. “Yeah, I will. Maybe sometime next week or something. She wants to meet you, you know.”

“Does she?” Harry’s face dimples. “I’m touched. I’d like to meet her, too. Anyone who’s important to you is important to me.”

“Then you’ll have to meet Fizzy and the twins eventually, and my mum too someday.”

“I’d _love_ that.” Harry is still grinning from ear to ear. “You’ll have to meet my family too though, it’s only a fair trade.”

“I probably would’ve by now if you didn’t kick me out every night before they get home.” Louis teases.

“Sorry.” Harry apologizes. “It’s just that they’re always so busy with the shop that I hardly get to spend any time with them. I cherish our family dinners. But you should stay next time.”

“Well, I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, really, it would be nice.” He assures. “I never really thought about it before, but yeah, you’re definitely joining us soon.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Louis complies.

They settle into silence for a bit as they take a few more hits and soar higher.

“Wanna see how many of those cupcakes we can eat before we end up doubled over in pain?” Harry asks randomly, setting the bowl down on the table.

And Louis has always been competitive, so he accepts with determination to emerge victorious.

The answer is seven for him and five for Harry. There were only a dozen made anyway, but Louis finished his sixth and grabbed up the last one before Harry could, even though he already felt stuffed to the brim. He didn’t mind though, because that made him the winner and the cupcakes were beyond fantastic anyway. Harry really knows what he’s doing in the kitchen, and Louis loves sweets most of all.

“That was a bad idea.” Harry groans after, clutching his stomach.

“That was a glorious idea.” Louis disagrees, licking the last spot of icing off his finger. “Except now all my special cupcakes are gone.” He frowns.

“I’ll make you more.”

“You really don’t have to. Actually, please don’t.” They were delicious, but now he feels fat and overstuffed. “I’d eat every single one and eventually turn into a whale.”

“Watching your figure?” Harry quirks a brow.

“Not closely, but seven cupcakes in ten minutes is probably more than enough for the rest of the week, at least.”

“If you need to work them off, I can help with that.” Harry alludes.

“Please, not when I’m all gross and bloated.” He dismisses.

“You sound very manly.” Harry compliments.

“Aren’t you the same one who got their knickers all in a twist over the gender binary the other night?” Louis reminds him. “Guys can worry about their weight, too.”

“But you’re perfect.” Harry objects.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re high.”

“I’m still right.” He argues. “Your curves are in all the right places, and—”

Harry’s phone lights up and starts vibrating on the nightstand. He glances over at it and in an instant his face goes from lax to tense, shocked almost. He quickly yanks it off the table to answer.

“Hey, what’s up?” He sounds oddly casual, considering how visibly uncomfortable he is.

“No, I’m not.” He says a moment later. Louis strains to hear what the other person is saying, but it just sounds like tiny phone talk from where he sits. He plays with Harry’s toes while he listens, so it seems like he’s paying less attention than he actually is.

“Now?… No, I’m just at a friend’s… No, I didn’t mean it that way… Yeah, you are…”

The mystery person’s voice raises enough that Louis can make out the words “I am _what_ , Harry?”

“More important…” Louis looks up, raising his eyebrows in a question but Harry very pointedly does not look back.

“You _are_ more important to me.” He says clearer to the receiver, and Louis can pinpoint the exact spot in his heart where Harry just shot the arrow through.

“Just give me like 20 minutes. I’ll meet you at yours.” Harry starts kneading his fingers into the comforter, nervously. “Yeah, okay. See ya.”

He hangs up and looks back at Louis and this time there’s nothing there behind those eyes, usually so bright and alive, full of passion. Nothing this time though, just blankness like the kind Louis sees sometimes when he looks into the mirror.

“That was Nick.” His voice just as dull. Louis absolutely hates that Nick has that kind of effect on him.

“Your booty call.” Louis remembers.

“He’s not…” Harry sighs. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Louis is just as distant. Harry’s words are ringing in his ears. It seems like whenever he lets himself start thinking maybe he does mean as much to Harry as Harry does to him, he gets proven wrong again. “When was the last time you talked to him before now?”

“That day at the shelter.” Harry admits.

His mouth tightens into a hard line. _More important, more important, more important…_

Harry shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand, Lou, I…” He trails, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Harry. We’re just friends. Go on.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Not mad.” Louis assures him, and it isn’t a lie. He’s absolutely crushed and destroyed and on the verge of frustrated tears, and he doesn’t want Harry around to see it. “You can have a life outside of me, you know. Probably should. Not healthy for us to spend all our time together like this.”

His facades never work on Harry though. He pulls him up and hugs him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head.

“I don’t care if it’s healthy or not.” Harry whines. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Then why’d you agree to meet him?”

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

“But you can’t tell me how?”

Harry lets go and moves out from underneath him, flinging his legs off the side of the mattress and sliding off the bed.

“I have to go now.” He says curtly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? For our Disney marathon?”

Louis nods, feeling cold and empty without Harry wrapped around him anymore. Watching as he walks out of the room and closes the door behind him is actually heart wrenching, for reasons he knows are stupid. He’s right that Harry should have a life outside of him. They should have a life outside of each other. He’s learned the hard way before that it’s not good to make one person your everything, and especially not when that person is just a friend who clearly doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

He’s tired of sitting around missing Harry while he’s apparently out with his other friends, so Louis does the same. He heaves himself off the bed, pulls on some jeans and goes to join Zayn, Liam, and Niall at the bar. They’re ecstatic to see him better again and they spend the night like usual, talking and laughing and having genuine fun.

He’d still rather be with Harry, but it’s sort of okay because he has his own friends too and it’s nice to realize that the flower haired idiot isn’t the only one in his life who can make him feel truly okay sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thank you all so much for reading, i do appreciate you. <3


	6. Can't escape this now, unless you show me how

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS ARE FLAWLESS AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
> 
> thank you dearly for every single bit of feedback, it just makes me so happy to read you guys's comments and to watch my views and kudos and bookmarks increase, keep it up please, i adore each and every one of you. <3
> 
> seriously you made me want to update asap, i think this is the quickest i've ever finished a chapter, and i'm quite proud of it, too! that being said, get ready to have your hearts broken because this one starts out heavy. also, it's from harry's pov, so you get to see in his head for a change. enjoy xx
> 
> **tw for emotional/verbal abuse, and non-con (not terribly detailed, but enough that you should get the idea what's going on)

“What is it that’s so important you had to drag me away from my life right this second?” Harry complains as soon as Nick answers the door at his.

“Ooh, feeling a little brave today, are we?” Nick chides, grabbing his wrist and yanking him inside. “Don’t you snap at me like that.”

“Sorry.” Harry recoils instantly. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. You usually disappear for longer.”

“Maybe I missed you.” He says, but Harry’s eyes are untrusting. He’d have to have some sort of feelings still left in order to miss him, and there’s absolutely no indication of that being true.

“And maybe scientists are close to cracking the genetic code for putting wings on pigs.” Harry grumbles.

Nick laughs, cold and dark. “Where’s all this suddenly coming from? I kind of like it when you get feisty.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” Says Harry. “I only came here to tell you it’s over.”

“Shall we count how many times I’ve heard that line from you before?”

“I mean it this time, Nick, I’m done.”

Nick just shrugs it off. “We’ll see.” He reaches behind Harry to grab a handful of his bum and pull him in close for a kiss.

“Stop.” Harry whines, turning his head, attempting to wiggle out of the embrace.

“You don’t mean that.” Nick nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck, starting to nibble little marks into the skin there.

“Not that it fucking matters to you anyway.” He spits.

That shocks Nick enough that he pulls away to look Harry intensely in the eyes.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” He’s mad now, and Harry struggles not to show his fear. There’s no telling what he’ll do when he gets angry.

“I just… don’t want to do this anymore.” Harry is careful to keep his voice level and his thoughts under control. “You’re not good for me, and I… I think I met someone, who sort of is.”

Nick’s laugh is harsh and demeaning. “You met someone who _sort of_ is?”

“No, he is.” Harry corrects himself, stronger. “He definitely is.”

“And you think he actually wants you?” Nick scoffs.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows the best way to deal with it is to just keep silent and let him go on his rampage. It’s always worse when he tries to fight back.

“Where have you been lately?” Nick asks, circling around him like a lion stalking its prey. “How many people have been in that pretty little arse of yours? How about the other way around?”

Harry squirms uncomfortably.

“Lost track, huh?” Nick assumes.

“I don’t do that anymore.” Harry says quietly, giving in to the urge to defend himself. “I mean, not as much.” And it’s true. Ever since he met Louis, his desire to sleep with other people has decreased immensely. He doesn’t want them like he does Louis. They don’t drive him crazy like Louis does. He still gets it from friends sometimes, but even so, he only seriously goes after guys now because it’s easier to pretend they’re Louis.

“Since when? Since you met this person you think will actually love you, or whatever?” Nick wants to know.

“I didn’t say that. I just, I don’t know.” Harry stutters and shrugs and his voice shrinks again. “I might want him to. A little. Maybe someday.”

It’s too soon to be thinking about things like _love_ , but the truth is, he’s terrified that it might be possible. He’s not worthy of Louis’s love, he knows it. He gets the feeling that Louis is fragile and he knows he’s reckless and hurts everyone he’s ever tried to have a normal relationship with and the idea of doing that to dear, sweet Louis makes him want to punch _himself_ in the face. Louis needs someone who can treat him with all the care and kindness he deserves, and that person is definitely not him. He’d convinced himself they could be friends at least, but lately he’s been having scary thoughts like maybe Louis actually does like him back and maybe it could actually work out for once, if they gave it a try.

Nick laughs again, and the sound is grating. “You think someone will actually want you for something other than sex?”

Harry stays silent and sheepish, staring at the floor to avoid eye contact. Nick’s words are a blade, sloppily slicing him open and dissecting him bit by bit.

“You’re an excellent fuck, Harry, but I think you’re forgetting that’s all you’re good for.”

His stomach churns. He doesn’t want to believe it; his eyes shut tight and his face scrunches in pain as he struggles to drown out the ice cold noise.

“You’re disgusting. You’ve been passed around too much. No one will ever see you as anything more than the dirty little whore you are.”

He thinks of all the times Louis has shot down his advances and wants to hide his face in shame. Of course he would turn him down, of course he wouldn’t want him. Louis is pretty and lovely and sweet and he’s raunchy and rotten and all used up.

“No.” Harry objects timidly, more to convince himself than Nick. “Louis doesn’t think that about me.”

“Louis?” Nick repeats, the name sounding twisted and ugly in his mouth. Harry wants to take it back, snatch it up and keep it locked away somewhere he won’t ever find it.

“Is that who you left for me just now?” He asks, and the way it’s worded is so close to home it feels like Harry’s just had the air knocked out of him. He did leave Louis. Crushed and upset and alone when he thought Harry was there for him.

He only nods in response.

“Harry and Louis. How cute.” Nick mocks. “Too bad he’d never go for someone like you, unless he’s a blind fool.”

“You’re worthless, Harry, you’re nothing. You know that, right?” He prompts, and when Harry doesn’t respond, he grabs his face by the cheeks and jerks it up to look him in the eyes. “I said, you know that, _right_?”

“Yeah.” Harry admits.

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I am.” Harry breaks. He’s sick with how much he hates himself for always giving into Nick’s demands. He remembers Louis’ saddened face when he was made to tell Nick he’s more important, and decides he deserves whatever’s coming to him. “I know I am. I’m easy and horrible and foul and all anybody wants me for is my body. That’s all they’ll ever want me for.”

“That’s absolutely right.” Nick seems fairly satisfied, but he’s nowhere close to being done. “Go.” He orders, letting go of Harry’s face and pushing him towards the bedroom.

He hangs his head and obeys, trying to reign in his fear and disgust at what he knows is about to happen. They used to have good sex, sometimes still do, but it makes no difference to Nick if Harry wants it or not; when he calls, it’s for one thing, and he gets it regardless.

“And take those stupid flowers off your head.” Nick snarls, yanking his roses off in one swift motion. He carelessly lets them fall to the ground and they get crushed underneath his feet as he follows closely behind. “You know I hate that shit. You’re such a freak.”

Nick is particularly brutal this time, probably trying to make him forget about Louis. He gets jealous like that. But Louis is all Harry can think about, as usual, and that makes it even worse because every painful thrust is just a reminder of how vile he is and how Louis deserves someone who can be faithful to him, someone who hasn’t already been had again and again by so many different people, someone who knows how to stop their ex-whatever from taking what he wants, whenever he wants it.

He wants to cry, but more than that, he doesn’t want to give Nick the satisfaction. So he just lays there and wills himself to hold back, thinking instead of happier things, like Louis’s crinkly-eyed smile and how his hair always sticks in a million different directions even when he styles it and the way he turns his head down and his cheeks go all rosy whenever he gets complimented and how perfectly he fits into his arms when they cuddle.

\--

He’s glad he doesn’t have plans with Louis until tomorrow, because he always feels wretched after seeing Nick. He needs time to recover and get back to feeling like himself again.

On the way home, when he’s apart from Nick and able to think straight, he can see how harmful their relationship is and knows even he deserves better. But in his presence, it’s like his entire personality is dominated by Nick and his cruel words and the person he used to be when they first met. He falls for them like a fish for a lure, knowing none of it is truth but still latching onto it anyway, letting himself be dragged deep into a pit of insecurity and self-loathing. He feels small and ugly and useless and pathetic, and that’s not who he is in the slightest.

Away from Nick, he has a fine image of himself. He has his flaws, but so does everyone. He doesn’t think he’s the greatest person in the world, but he tries to be a good one, and thinks mostly he is.

He doesn’t usually feel bad for sleeping around. He likes sex, it’s a natural human urge, and why should he let the way others might think of him effect that? He knows his friends like him for him, not just the hookups. They talk and laugh with him, they come to him for advice or in times of trouble, he’ll do anything to make them smile and he knows they all value it.

But somehow Nick is able to make him hate himself for it. He’s the only one who can get to him like that, and after all this time he still can’t really explain why. It doesn’t make any sense, but it probably has to do with how he’s the first guy Harry had ever been with, had ever really loved. They were never officially together because Harry was still underage when they met, but for all intents and purposes, the relationship was there.

When things started out between them, it was nice. Harry was young and a bit shy, but Nick was funny and kind and took him under his wing. He built him up, made him feel beautiful and truly adored by someone other than his family for the fist time ever. When all the bullying got really hard to face sometimes, Nick was always there to soothe the sting and make him feel on top of the world again. Life was just easier with him around.

It was his own fault when things turned to shit. He got too drunk and too curious at a party one night, wanted to explore his options, see what else was out there. So he found a pretty girl willing to show him, Nick inevitably found out, and that was the end of that. He said he wanted nothing to do with him after that, and then the first signs of abuse started. He kicked him to the curb with a thousand different words all stringing together to mean “good-for-nothing slut”, in a nutshell.

They didn’t speak for months after that, until Nick rang Harry up one day, acting like he wanted to forgive him. By then, Harry’d already been putting the “fuck to forget” method to good use, but it wasn’t working in the slightest. So he went running back, they hooked up again, and as soon as they were done, Nick was back to kicking him out with a slew of insults on top. It became a vicious cycle that continued on until… well, it somehow became this awful arrangement they have now, that’s still going on even all these years later. He doesn’t know how he let it get this bad, or why he keeps going back for more.

Sometimes they actually have fun together, hanging out and acting like actual friends and having a nice time in bed and it’s almost like old times again. But then there are days like today, which seem to happen more often than not lately, where Nick is just angry and needs to fuck it out of his system. Harry used to fight back, but he found that only made it harder on himself, so he ended up turning into a shy little bunny in Nick’s presence, barely making a peep and watching his own self-worth deteriorate before his eyes.

He’d never loved anyone like he loved Nick, not before and not since. And even though the person he fell for is long gone now, destroyed by his own selfishness and animalistic needs, he still remembers the man who used to hold him while he cried and promised it would all be okay someday. He doesn’t know how to let go of that.

He has to learn though, if he ever wants to stand a chance with Louis. He’s not entirely sure that _is_ what he wants, because Louis is worth more than he can give and he’s never been good at committing to another person, but Louis makes him want to try. Even though he hasn’t completely decided if that’s a good idea yet, it’ll absolutely never happen with Nick still in the picture. He has to break it off for good, as soon as he can.

He considers just explaining everything to Louis, to maybe ease his obvious annoyance at the situation, but instantly shakes the thought out of his head. He’s the bad guy here. He’s the one who ruined it all. Louis would see that and want nothing to do with him anymore, and they’d end up just like him and Nick are now. Worse, probably, because Louis isn’t violent or controlling in the slightest, so he’d most likely just cut him out of his life and they’d never speak again and the mere thought of going without that smile for the rest of his days makes his heart ache. Definitely worse. Some sick part of him would rather be treated like shit by Louis than never see him again, and maybe that’s exactly how he got himself into this fucked up situation with Nick in the first place.

\--

It’s late when he finally gets home, and Gemma’s in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. He feels bad for missing it, and guilty that she’s washing dishes because she’s probably exhausted from working all day. He assumes their mum is already in bed; she usually goes right after their meal.

“Hey, Gem,” He manages a smile when he sees her. “Let me do that for you.” He offers, inserting himself between her and the sink to finish the job.

“Aw, you don’t have to. You didn’t even eat anything.” She objects, but doesn’t fight to take his place.

“Yeah, but I had an easy day. It’s no problem.” He says, scrubbing the last bit of crusted food off the plate and rinsing it clean. “How was yours?”

“Good.” She nods. “Long, but good. Business seems to be picking up, you know, with the warm weather and all. The flowers are beautiful this season and everyone wants them for something.”

Harry smiles. “That’s good. You guys need an extra hand this week?”

“I’m sure mum wouldn’t object if you want to help out, but we should be okay.”

“I think I’ll stop by a couple days anyway. I haven’t been in a while, and you both work so hard.” He says. “Anything I can do to make it easier, I’m happy to.”

“You’re too nice.” She ruffles his hair. “You sure the shelter will be okay without you?”

“Like it’s such a difficult job to do?” Harry laughs. “They’ll find someone to cover me.”

Gemma smiles and thanks him, says it’ll be nice having him around. He finishes the dishes in silence, and just as he’s putting the last one on the drying rack, she speaks again.

“Did you make up with Louis yet?” She wonders.

Gemma is his equivalent of Louis’ Lottie. He shares everything with her, she’s always there for him to turn to, and vice versa. She even knows about Nick. The only thing she doesn’t know is exactly how bad it’s gotten lately (so no way is he going to mention him or their regrettable evening together), but she knows their history. And Harry’s been talking her ear off about Louis ever since they met.

“Yeah, I went straight to his after work.” He grins, remembering the better part of his day. “He’s probably coming over for dinner sometime soon, by the way.”

“Oh? Meeting the family for dinner? That’s kind of a couple-y thing to do. Thought you guys were just friends.” She gives him a sly smirk.

“We are.” He pinks in the cheeks.

“So that’s just a friendly blush I’m seeing right now?”

“Stop, Gem.” He whines, hiding his face in his hands. “You know I like him, but he… it’s not like that.”

“Well, he’s a fool to not like you back.” She says simply. Nick’s words echo in his ears, _he’d never go for someone like you, unless he’s a blind fool._

“I’m gonna hop in the shower.” He sighs, ignoring her comment. He still feels gross and tainted from his time with Nick. He used to spend hours trying to scrub it off, but now he’s more or less accepted that there’s always going to be a thin film of possession hidden underneath all the layers of skin, and there’s no point in trying to get rid of it. Showering still helps him feel clean on the outside, at least.

“Thinking about Louis now? Don’t make a mess.” Gemma teases, and he playfully smacks her on the arm. Dirty minds run in the family, apparently.

“Goodnight.” He laughs as he ascends the stairs. She cackles from somewhere behind him.

He goes to bed that night, squeaky clean and actually relatively happy, almost back to normal because he’s got a whole day of Louis to look forward to tomorrow.

\--

“We have to watch Mulan though.” Louis whines as the two of them are sat on the floor of his living room, trying to agree on a movie lineup. Harry’d come over first thing in the morning, so they’d have maximum time for a proper marathon.

“I was never a big fan of that one.” Harry says, and before he can suggest something else, Louis’s mouth hangs open, looking offended.

“Seriously? ‘I’ll Make A Man Out Of You’ is a classic! And she’s a total badass. We’re watching Mulan.” He moves it to the top of the list, behind Peter Pan, which was automatically established in the first spot.

Harry loves when Louis is alive like today, bright and sunny and alert. He’s always been an intuitive person and the more time he spends around Louis, the easier it gets to feel out his moods. He seems to have a lot of ups and downs, probably more downs than ups, which is unsettling. He wonders if it’s his fault, if there’s anything he’s doing to make him feel that way, and worries that maybe Louis is becoming bored or annoyed with his presence sometimes. Or it could be something else entirely; some dark part of his life that he’s keeping hidden from him, like he himself is doing with Nick.

Whatever it is, something’s troubling him that he doesn’t want to talk about, and it hurts to see him upset and not being able to do anything about it, not even knowing what it is that’s got him so down in the first place. But today is a good day, and he’s thankful for it. Louis looks so excited about the movie, there’s no way he could even attempt to deny him that kind of happiness, and he wouldn’t want to anyway.

“Fine, we’ll watch Mulan, but you have to give me Tangled in trade for that one.” He compromises, and Louis cracks a teasing smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“You _would_ choose Tangled, princess.”

Harry grins. “Can’t help it if I wish I had some impossibly long, blonde hair to attract a hot prince of my own.”

“You don’t need it.” Louis’s crinkles meet his eyes as he reaches out to run his fingers through Harry’s fringe, careful not to disturb the multicolored pansies nestled atop his head. “Your curls are much more preferable. And you rock the flowers better than she ever did, too.”

“Will you be the prince to my princess, then?” Harry smiles, stomach fluttering at Louis’s compliments.

“If you wish it, your majesty.”

“Prince Gumdrop.” Harry tries, and Louis rolls his eyes but there’s that adorable blush again. “You love it.” He teases, poking his pink little cheeks.

“I love Finding Nemo.” Louis says, adding it to the lineup after Tangled.

They agree on Hercules and The Lion King too, and then quickly realize there are too many movies they both want to see for them to fit it all in one day.

“You could spend the night.” Louis suggests, making Harry’s heart soar.

He feigns shock. “Lou, are you actually trying to get _me_ into bed for once?”

Sex is easy for Harry. It’s easy to talk about and easy to joke about and easy to do. It doesn’t have to mean anything and there doesn’t have to be feelings involved, just raw heat and want and satisfaction. And with most people, that’s all it is.

But with Louis it’s something else entirely. It’s all that, plus this terrifyingly nice, electric shiver all throughout his body at just the thought of it. He remembers when he had his hand around his cock, the little pants and squeaks and moans pouring out of his mouth, how achingly gorgeous he looked with his head tilted back and his jaw slack, crying out in ecstasy.

He wants that again. He wants it over and over, every day, a continuous loop of just Louis in pure bliss, knowing he’s the reason for it. He can’t help but make that interest obvious.

Louis laughs it off, cute and tinkly, like a little fairy. “You wish.”

“I do.” Harry easily admits. “For the record, you wouldn’t have to plan a fake sleepover.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that.” Louis says.

“So you genuinely want me to spend the night, then?”

“I mean, if you don’t already have plans.” He shrugs. “And like, if you actually want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s so happy that he pulls Louis in for a bear hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before tucking him into his chest. Sometimes he really can’t resist cuddling and touching him every chance he gets, he’s just so adorable and loveable and he doesn’t seem to mind it anyways.

“Cool, we could have like a proper sleepover party.” Louis says, snuggling in closer. “I’m sure the guys will want to join too. I’ll tell Niall to pick up some drinks on his way home.”

“Sweet, now take your jeans off.” Harry says coolly, and Louis pulls away to give him a look of confusion and shock.

“I promised you an _underwear_ movie marathon, yeah?” Harry grins, undoing his own and stepping out one leg at a time, kicking them to the side.

Louis’s face morphs into a blank stare, his jaw hung open slightly as he takes in the sight of Harry’s bare legs and simple black briefs. Harry smirks and waves his hand in front of his eyes.

“You okay?” He calls, and Louis is flushed when he returns to earth.

“Yeah, shit, I’m fine.” His head tilts down as he removes his, avoiding eye contact out of sheer embarrassment. “If you’d have told me there was gonna be a dress code, I wouldn’t have even bothered to change this morning.”

Harry laughs and plops himself down on the couch and starts to pack the bowl. He catches something out of the corner of his eye when Louis settles in next to him.

“Are those _Adventure Time_ boxers?” He almost shouts.

Louis flusters again, and Harry relishes in how easy it is to get that reaction out of him.

“It’s a good show.” Louis defends.

“It’s an awesome show, I just didn’t know you liked it enough to want Jake’s head near your junk.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “Yes, that’s exactly what was going through my mind when I bought them. I thought, ‘hm, which character do I want on my cock while I sleep?’ and the obvious answer was Jake, because I’m totally into dogs, by the way.”

“It must be fate that I work at a cat shelter then, you’d never have noticed me at a dog haven.” Harry jokes.

“Speaking of beastiality, let’s add Beauty and the Beast to the list, I haven’t seen that one in ages.”

They get a nice buzz going and cuddle up to watch the first two, obsessively quoting nearly every line of Peter Pan, and Harry thinks it’s adorable how Louis keeps looking over at him during Mulan to make sure he’s enjoying it. He has to admit, watching it with Louis does give him a new appreciation for it.

Around noon, they order two pizzas (one cheese, one pepperoni) and Louis makes a cute scrunched-nose face when Harry finds a can of sweet corn in the pantry to add to his. They each finish the entire thing, and after another smoke they’ve made room for the brownies Harry brought along, too. Louis scolds him for that and complains about his belly again, so Harry pins him to the couch and kisses the soft little bulge between raspberries to shut him up.

They watch Hercules and Louis goes on a rant about how he hates Meg, and Harry teases him about it (“you’re just jealous cause you’d totally shag Herc”) and Louis’s tinted cheeks give away his secret crush on the heartthrob. Finding Nemo is all quotes and giggles and discussions about the upcoming sequel and how awesome Ellen is and the various guests she’s had on her show and of course, the uncanny resemblance between her and Niall.

It isn’t until they’re just getting into The Lion King and the two of them are hopping and dancing around the room with their invisible mics, belting along to ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’ that Zayn and Liam get home, and neither of them even notice their presence till the song finishes.

“You two put on a fantastic show.” Zayn comments, and both of their heads snap over to the doorway where the couple stands, arms crossed and identical huge, amused grins on their faces.

“Thank you.” Louis fucking curtsies, and Harry swears his heart’s going to explode right out of his chest from how precious he is. “You’re welcome to join us during the next number.”

Liam laughs. “No thanks, but we will stay for the rest of the movie.” He says, making himself comfortable on the love seat, patting the space next to him for Zayn to take.

“And we’re definitely having some pot and brownies, too.” Zayn adds, settling in next to his boyfriend.

“You’ve just walked in on a 24 hour marathon, so if you stay you’re in till the end.” Harry warns, sitting down to pack another bowl and light up again. “And no pants allowed.” He orders.

“This is what you guys did all day?” Liam asks in awe. He obediently shimmies out of his jeans and just for fun, helps Zayn out of his too.

“No, in the morning we just sat and watched without the signing or dancing.” Louis says. Liam shoots him a glare, but Louis just playfully sticks his tongue out at him in response.

“Well, while you two were busy being toddlers at Disneyland, the rest of us adults were out slaving our butts off at work.” Zayn complains, reaching for a brownie.

Louis and Harry share a look and give a synchronized laugh.

“What, drawing pictures on people’s skin is suddenly too tough of a job for poor little Zaynie?” Harry teases.

“Shall we find him some coloring books instead, Haz? Ease the pressure a bit?” Louis mocks along with him, and Harry’s heart stutters at the new nickname.

“Great idea, Lou, I think I have some at home, still left over from when I was little. They might be half done already, but that just makes it all the more simple for him to finish them off.” Harry follows.

“Fuck you guys,” Zayn’s shaking his head, but there’s a smile on his face. “See what happens the next time either of you wants a new tat, you are so fucked.”

“Note to self: always go to Ed from now on.” Harry checks an imaginary box in the air.

“Meanwhile, the rest of us are waiting for the bowl to be passed.” Liam is impatient.

“’Thank you, Harry, for providing a nice high and the food to settle it, you’re a wonderful blessing from above and I hope you stick around forever.’” Harry imitates Liam’s voice flawlessly, even getting the slight difference in accents on point, and everyone bursts out laughing.

Niall joins the party around nine, when things are starting to wind down a bit and both couples are snuggled together in the middle of The Little Mermaid. He’s got beer, so they crack open a few cans and chug them down fast, and in combination with the weed, everyone’s feeling good and having fun.

Already a bit tipsy from working his early shift at the bar, Niall makes a few inappropriate comments about Ariel’s new human legs that have them all in tears. And when Princess And The Frog goes on next, he’s relentless with his queries about the mechanics of amphibian sex and they’re clutching their abs by the time they decide it’s time for bed.

Zayn and Liam excuse themselves first, calling it a night when the movie ends around twelve-thirty (“some of us have real jobs to wake up early for” they tease), and Niall, very obviously not wanting to feel like a third wheel, retreats to him and Louis’ room shortly after.

Harry doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but even after a whole day of pure laughs and happiness, he’s still not satisfied in his time with Louis. So they put in Aladdin and finish that one in near silence, Louis lying comfortably in his arms while he traces patterns into his skin and periodically brushes the hair out of his face to plant soft little kisses on his forehead.

It’s around 4am and they’re almost at the end of Tarzan when they finally start to drift off. Somehow they went from casual cuddling to full on spooning each other on the couch (Louis as the little one, of course) and Harry feels so peaceful, like he’s home and this is exactly how things should be, and he starts to get fearful again. They’ve got stomachs sloshed full of alcohol, they’re still high from the last smoke break, and they’re both a bit loopy from sleep deprivation, but Louis whisper-slurs something that he’s sure sounds like “Today was so much fun. I really like you, Harry” and his heart speeds up in the best and worst of ways.

Does he mean he _likes_ him, likes him, or is he just drunk mumbling about things and he actually means it in an “I’m glad we’re friends” sort of way? If this is a confession of feelings, he’s not ready for it. His chest tightens and he feels a nervous sweat coming on. He can’t deal with this right now. Nick is still in the picture and he himself is still soiled and fickle and feeling completely unworthy of his affections. If he says it back, things will only get more complicated and Louis will end up hurt when he can’t live up to it in the end.

He shuts his eyes and subtly goes limp, pretending to be asleep already so he doesn’t have to address the comment. He feels Louis shift a little underneath him, probably turning his head to check if he’s awake and heard his words or not, but he keeps up the display and Louis heaves a wistful sigh, turning back to face the telly.

There’s a gentle press of lips against his forearm, and then another shift as Louis settles down to fall asleep for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys don't hate harry as much now that you have some insight on his side of the story. the next update probably won't come as soon cause i'll be busy with work the next few days, sorry to disappoint, but i hope you liked this one and comments are always welcomed and appreciated. thanks again to you all for reading <3


	7. The opposite of love's indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weee this one made me happy to write! smut warning ahead, yipee! enjoy xx

The first thing Louis notices when he flutters his eyelids open the next day is the thumping in his head. It’s just a light ache at the nape of his neck that should hopefully fade in a couple hours, but it’s enough to let him know he definitely had a bit too much to drink last night.

The next thing that registers are the memories from the previous day. How much fun they all had and how genuinely, stupidly happy he was, and that Harry slept over, they cuddled together on the couch a lot, and _he fell asleep in his arms_. His insides do a little cheery dance, before he realizes next that Harry is nowhere to be found.

Louis’s lying on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the couch, and there’s nothing underneath him except the worn cushions. He sits up and rubs his eyes, clearing his vision, giving his brain a minute to come to. He calls Harry’s name, but there’s no answer from anyone. Just complete calm and silence all throughout the flat.

He starts to panic, thinking Harry must have run out on him in the middle of the night because maybe he’d done something wrong yesterday that offended him or annoyed him or he’d just plain decided enough was enough. But his heart settles quickly, once he notices a note on the table. It’s marked on in Harry’s nonsensical handwriting:

_Morning gumdrop!_

_Left early to help mum at the flower shop today. Didn’t want to wake you. Sleepy Lou is too cute to disturb! Text me when you get this :)_

_Haz xx_

Of course, Louis immediately reaches for his phone and shoots off a quick text.

Morning princess :) Sleep well?

Harry responds with a picture, and Louis’ jaw drops when he sees that it’s of himself, curled up on the couch with his legs bent up towards his chest. His hands make like a pillow for his head, and his face is squished against the back of his palm, eyes shut, mouth hanging loosely open.

 _Someone sure did._ Harry captioned it.

YOU TOOK A PICTURE OF ME SLEEPING? I’LL MURDER YOU

He wants to hide his face in embarrassment, which is silly considering Harry can’t even see his face right now. Except in the picture he took. Of him looking sloppy and unkempt. Mid-slumber.

Harry texts back:

_It’s my new lock screen .xxxx_

The little shit is infuriatingly adorable.

DELETE IT

_Never! You’re like a little kitten._

I’LL BE MORE LIKE A HUNGRY TIGER IF YOU DON’T GET RID OF IT RIGHT NOW

_Do you promise to pounce on me the next time I see you, tiger? ;)_

Harold Edward Styles, if you do not delete that photo this instant I will block you from my phone and we will never speak again.

_Lewis William Tomlinson, nice try._

He growls in frustration at the screen, knowing there’s nothing he can do. If he had a picture of a sleeping Harry on his phone, he definitely wouldn’t ever in a million years even dream of deleting it, so it’s safe to say Harry’s not about to get rid of it either. Which is still rather embarrassing, but also kind of comforting that it makes him smile enough that he’d want to see it all day, every time he glances at his phone. Like a crush or something.

Suddenly, Louis gets a flashback from last night, right before they finally fell asleep. He told Harry he liked him. Or he possibly just imagined telling him, and now was getting his memories all conflicted. He’d been drunk and high and overtired and he had a bad habit of blurting things out without thinking in the first place, so it’s entirely possible that it actually happened. Did Harry say anything back? No. Shit. Maybe he thought it was just drunken nonsense. _Hopefully_ he thought it was just drunken nonsense.

Wait, he vaguely remembers rolling over and catching Harry already asleep. He must not have even heard it, or if he did, maybe he thinks it was just a dream. Either way, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to acknowledge it, so Louis calms down a bit and doesn’t let himself worry about too much about it for the moment. If Harry says something about it, he can always play it off as something he doesn’t even remember saying.

He heaves himself off the couch to start his day, making a quick pit stop in the bathroom to take his meds and brush his teeth, and then it’s into the kitchen to fix some breakfast slash afternoon tea.

He finds another note strategically placed next to the teapot on the counter.

_Lou, could you drop this off at the landlord’s office today? Thanks_

This one is in Liam’s perfectly neat and fluid handwriting. There’s an envelope full of cash underneath it; this month’s rent.

And just like that, he’s flooded with guilt. He realizes it’s the second month in a row that his roommates have covered his part of it, without even a word of complaint.

Up until now he’s been putting off the hunt for a new job. He’s applied online to a few places here and there, just to be able to say he’s trying to find something, but mostly he’s just been pushing the idea to the back of his head and ignoring it whenever it rears its ugly head, like he does with everything else even slightly troublesome. But this is a neon sign staring him right in the face. If he keeps mooching off his friends, they’ll end up resenting him for it and he can’t risk losing some of the most important people in his life, especially over something so easily fixable.

He showers and dresses and fixes his hair, a process that takes nearly an hour in itself, and he’s out the door soon after. He makes sure to drop off the envelope before heading into town, determined to find something _today_. At the very least, something promising for the near future.

He spends hours filling out stacks of applications, and receiving a few referrals to online ones, at literally any place he can find. Fast food chains (ugh), retail stores (UGH), sit-down restaurants, family owned business, even briefly considering stopping into a nearby modeling agency before realizing he’s too short and they’d probably definitely want him to go on a diet, and that’s if they even thought his face was passable in the first place.

By late afternoon, he’s physically exhausted from hopping around town all day, and mentally exhausted from receiving rejection after rejection after “we’ll keep your application on file” aka rejection. It’s utterly depressing; pun fully and morbidly intended. He’s feeling like it’s completely hopeless and he’s worried that his friends have already been annoyed with him all this time, for doing virtually nothing of value the past couple months while they work their asses off to support him.

He needs to eat some junk food _now_ , to make him feel better. Or worse, because of the inevitable after-shame that comes with emotional eating, but he can’t be bothered to care about that right now.

As the thought crosses his mind, he notices a small frozen yogurt place across the street from the Kohl’s where he just applied, and god, that makes his mouth water.

It looks like it’s a slow business day for the place. There’s one person on his way out with a cup full of orange mush in his hands, but it’s empty besides that, with the exception of the one staff member who’s taking advantage of the downtime by sweeping the floors.

“Hiii,” He sings, smiling brightly upon Louis’ entrance. The guy’s a fucking giant, at least six feet or more and clearly built from the looks of his arms, but with his sandy brown hair, slightly babyish face, dimples even more prominent than Harry’s, and a terribly endearing Australian accent, he might be just about the least threatening thing Louis’ ever seen.

“What can I get for ya?” The guy asks, making his way behind the counter. He has to look slightly down in order for them to even speak eye-to-eye.

Louis gives the menu a quick sweep, and it doesn’t take long for his taste buds to decide.

“Um, I’ll just have a cup of vanilla, with sprinkles and gummy bears.” He says, eyeing the long spread of toppings behind the glass barrier over the counter, seeing if anything else sparks his interest. “And actually, jelly beans too.”

“That all?” The guy asks, keeping his smile as he prepares the order.

“Chocolate chips.” Louis notices. “The tiny ones.”

The boy piles them on, too.

“And are those cheesecake pieces?”

The guy nods at him, smile growing even wider and slightly mischievous, and for a moment Louis thinks he’s really quite attractive. Then it’s all serious business again as he nods for him to add them on.

“Anything else?” Aussie checks, still hovering over the topping bar.

“Strawberry sauce. And whipped cream.” Louis says, biting his lip with guilt. He’s thinking about how it’ll all show up right on his tummy and thighs and bum within the next few days, but it looks so good and he’s practically salivating already, so he can’t bring himself to turn it away.

The guy (Ashton, Louis notices his name tag) gives a soft little laugh. “You know, this is supposed to be a healthier alternative…”

“I know, fuck.” Louis scolds himself. “Please, feel free to stop me at any time. Could you add a cherry on top, too?” He says in the same breath.

Ashton laughs again. “Alright, I’m denying you the cherry then. Gotta draw the line somewhere.”

“No, please, just the cherry.” Louis whines. “And then you can cut me off.”

“I’m doing you a favor. You’re an addict and this is an intervention. No cherry.”

“Fine, you’re right. It’s a slippery slope.” Louis nods intently. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“My pleasure.” Ashton’s grin settles into a closed-mouth smile, but his cheeks are still dimpled identically on either side. Louis’s having trouble not staring. They’re so deep, he wants to reach out and poke his finger in them, like he does to Harry’s a bit too often. It’s probably unhealthy that he has such a weakness for them. It’s becoming a borderline obsession.

He pays for his mountain of sweets and Ashton looks back up at him with deep, woodsy eyes, whipping his head to the side and brushing a wavy wisp of hair out of his face.

“Enjoy your pile of candy.” He says, handing over the dessert.

“Thanks.” Louis chuckles. He takes a seat in the back of the tiny place and digs in and the flavors are overwhelming in the best of ways. They’re an insane combination of very different kinds of delicious, all mixing together in his mouth and stomach and he almost wants to giggle at how good it is.

Ashton goes back to sweeping and Louis is more than halfway done with his treat when he reaches the table, pulling out the chair across from him to sweep underneath it.

“Is that as good as it looks?” He wonders.

“It’s fantastic.” Louis mumbles with a mouth full of food.

“Can you even taste the froyo?”

“What froyo?” Louis asks, swallowing a spoonful of sweets and whipped cream.

Ashton chuckles and goes back to sweeping.

Louis notices how quiet the place is, even in the middle of a hot summer day. It’s small and upbeat and inviting, well air-conditioned, there’s a nice boy working there, and the employees probably get free or at least discounted yogurt, which means access to all the toppings his little heart desires. He could probably even get away with picking at them throughout the day too, when no one’s looking. It seems like a pretty nice arrangement.

Against his body’s best wishes, he asks if they’re currently hiring.

“Not technically,” Ashton gives a little shrug. “But I’m in really well with the manager, and you’re exactly the type she _would_ hire.”

“What’s that?” Louis is curious.

“Cute and sociable.” He says simply, and Louis thinks it’s odd that someone would ever think of him as sociable, but he’s not about to argue. “Mostly cute, though. She likes to make sure there’s only good-looking lads on staff, to attract business. You wouldn’t believe how many regulars we have fawning over us every time they come in. A lot of them even ask for someone specific.”

“Well, I’m flattered you think I’d fit in then.” Louis beams.

“Really? I’m surprised you aren’t used to it by now. You should have girls groveling at your feet everywhere you go.”

“Are you hitting on me?” Louis raises an eyebrow, smirking, making Ashton chuckle yet again. He seems like such a perky and positive person, Louis feels weirdly smiley just being in his presence.

“A bit, yeah.” He admits.

“Is it so I’ll come back and be one of those regular customers for you?”

“Actually, no. But that’s a good tactic, and it’d be wise to put it to use when you start here.” He says, and then after a pause, “You did ask cause you’re looking for a job, yeah?”

Louis nods. “You have the authority to hire people, just like that?”

“Nope, but Kristen adores me. If I recommend you to her, you’re pretty much guaranteed in.”

“Why would you do that for me?” He seems like a pretty genuine person, but Louis is always wary of people’s motives. You can ever be too trusting in this world. And it’s a bit too much of a coincidence that just as he was ready to throw in the towel for the day, he’d get exactly what he was looking for handed to him on a silver platter.

“I told you, you’re cute and you seem like a cool guy.” He shrugs.

“Call me cute again.” Louis looks up and flutters his eyelashes, preening from the attention. He used to hate the word, but somehow hearing it from Harry so often has turned it into a compliment. It’s better than being described as having a good personality, at least.

Ashton laughs again. “Very cute. Adorable, even.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll work here, jeez. You can stop begging now.”

Ashton shakes his head in amusement; his smile never vanishes. “I’ll grab you an application. Standard policy, you know, but unless you’re like a heroin addict or you’ve got a secret criminal background, you can consider yourself in.”

“Shit, never mind then.” Louis snaps his fingers in dramatic frustration.

Ashton hesitates. “No, seriously, please tell me neither of those applies to you.”

“Only joking, mate.” Louis assures, and the sunny smile returns just like that.

“Great. Guess I’ll be seeing you, then.” He excuses himself for a moment and comes back with a simple page of typical information for Louis to fill out, and a few short minutes later, he’s on his way out with a full belly and a pleasant demeanor.

He texts Harry immideately:

GUESS WHO JUST GOT A NEW JOB!!!

And Harry texts back:

_WOOHOO!! *crowd chanting* LOU-IS LOU-IS LOU-IS LOU-IS_

From there, Louis heads straight to his weekly therapy session, feeling accomplished and excited.

\--

When he retells the story of his afternoon and how relieving it is to finally have a job secured, he earns a genuine smile from his therapist. He tells Louis how proud he is of him for being so friendly towards a complete stranger, as opposed to his usual cold, closed off behavior. He saw an opportunity and went for it, instead of backing down and giving up, deeming himself a failure before he even tried.

He goes on to congratulate him for making the effort to improve his life and hopefully expand his social circle for the first time since Harry. A new job with people around his own age brings about the chance to meet people and “broaden his life horizons” (he really hates how therapists seem to talk in philosophical quotes). And usually he’s very questionable about the way Harry affects Louis, but today he admits that the flower child might actually be a positive influence on his life and his attitude.

Louis is beaming with pride by the end of the session, both in his own actions and for Harry finally being recognized as the gem that he is. Even though Harry doesn’t fix _everything_ , he is good at fixing some things, and it’s nice to have that confirmed by someone who’s been carefully monitoring his condition for a long time now.

He calls Harry as soon as he’s in the car, on his way home.

“Meet me at mine as soon as you can.” He says, hanging up before Harry can even respond.

\--

It takes him a bit longer to get home than he’d anticipated, so Harry’s already sat on the couch waiting for him when he walks in.

He animates with that familiar painful grin of his. “Congrats, Lou! Where’d you end up—”

Louis cuts him off with his lips, actually jumping onto his lap, straddling him and eagerly closing the distance between their faces. He’s absolutely buzzing and alive with good feelings, and he’s so grateful for Harry and the way he’s literally changed his life and improved his moods, he has to do something about it or he feels like he’ll explode. And the only way he knows how to keep that from happening is to thank Harry in a way he’s sure he’ll truly appreciate.

Harry doesn’t object or even question it, he just automatically reaches behind Louis and cups his ass, grabbing and kneading it as he deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth with the mirrored urgency. Their hips grind together heavily, the friction is maddening and Louis takes Harry’s bottom lip in his teeth and scrapes them against it as he pulls back slowly. Harry gives the most delicious little moan and surges forward to mold their lips together again, like losing contact with them will stop his racing heart.

Louis breaks the kiss to plant his lips all along Harry’s jaw, lightly nibbling his way down to his neck, sucking his mark into the sensitive skin there, loving the soft sound of Harry’s labored breathing.

“Can I suck you off?” Louis rumbles against the obscenely purple splotch when he’s done, and Harry groans low in his throat.

“Fuck, yeah.” He drawls, and that’s all it takes for Louis to slide off his lap and position himself between Harry’s mile-long legs. He lifts his shirt up and off and kisses the hard lines of his abs first, nipping at the silky smooth skin, leaving little red marks and earning a few impatient whines. He fumbles with the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them and pulling them down in a few jerky motions.

Harry’s absolutely rigid, and god, Louis can see a perfect outline of his cock through his skin tight boxer briefs and he wants to kiss and lick and nip at his v-line and his inner thighs and everything besides the bulge to keep teasing him, but he suddenly wants his mouth around it so badly he just can’t hold back anymore.

He’s so quick to rip the fabric off his legs that he’s sure he hears a tear in it, but he can’t be bothered to care because Harry is big and throbbing and leaking precome already and there’s nothing he can focus on except the taste of it as he wraps his hand around the base and licks up the length of his shaft, flicks his tongue over the slit at the tip and relishes in the unchained little gasp Harry returns. He swallows as much as he can in one gulp and gets a little more than halfway before he remembers how long it’s been since he’s had a cock in his mouth. Already, he has to take a breath, so he gradually slides his mouth back up, dragging his tongue against the underside, leaving it glistening with saliva.

“Shit, _fuck_ , Lou.” Harry breathes, gazing down at him underneath shaggy curls. Less than a second passes before Louis’ plunging back down again, determined to take the whole thing because it’s _Harry’s_ and he loves it, loves the way it stretches his lips and fills his mouth and how Harry’s massive hands grip the roots of his hair as he groans little encouragements. And it’s been a while, yeah, but once upon a time he used to be an expert cocksucker, or so his ex-flings have praised. So he’s fiercely determined to impress Harry with his ability to deep throat like he hopes he still can.

He bobs his head slowly but smoothly and hungrily, fitting a little more in each time he goes down, until finally he’s nose to coarse hair and he gags a little around the girth in his throat. Harry cries out and yanks his hair for dear life and it hurts and he can feel the sting in his eyes as they start to water, but god if it isn’t the best damn pain he’s ever felt.

He pulls away to take in a big gasp of air and it’s sloppy; his cheeks glisten with tears and there’s spit all over his lips and dripping from his chin, but Harry reaches out to caress his cheek, panting things like, “You’re so fucking amazing” and “You look absolutely gorgeous with my cock in your mouth, can you do it again, please?”

So Louis obliges, diving down and taking it all the way in one try this time. He pulls back up to the tip, then slowly sucks back to the base a few more times and holds his head steady there for a moment. Harry’s groaning and cursing and falling apart at the seams, Louis can feel it, he wants it, so he hums around his cock to give him some vibration.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” Harry begs, voice rough and wrecked, and Louis looks up at him with sparkling blue-gray wetness and gives a tiny nod and _fuck_ , Harry’s hips are suddenly erratic as he trembles, spilling warm and thick down Louis’s tight little throat and it’s positively magnificent.

Louis pulls off Harry’s cock when he deflates and licks all around his mouth to make sure there’s not a drop missed. He crawls up to Harry’s face and their lips find each other’s for a kiss that’s lazy but still heat and pleasure, more like slow magma than a spark to a flame.

He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and lays on his chest, breathless and euphoric as Harry’s arms wrap securely around him like an iron cocoon. They stay cuddled like that for a long, silent moment, until Harry’s chest rises and falls with a winded chuckle.

“Maybe you should look for a second job.” He suggests. “It couldn’t hurt, you know, if that’s how you’re gonna celebrate your success.”

It’s uncanny how easily he can make Louis’ heart drop just as easily as he can make it soar. He’d forgotten why he decided it wasn’t a good idea to hook up with him again, and now he wants to kick himself for being so impulsive.

It was good, yeah. Great, even. Fantastic and wonderful and amazing and he definitely wants to do it again someday, but he doesn’t know how to separate sex from feelings like Harry does. To him it’s not just carnal instinct, it’s a way of showing affection. While Harry’s thoughts are reserved for bodily urges like the need to get off, it goes so much deeper than that for him.

Even now, he just wants to kiss all over Harry’s stupid, adorable face and tell him how perfect and lovely he is. He loves being held by him like this, and wishes he could promise out loud to keep him safe and adored, and he wishes Harry wanted those things too. He wants to be selfish and have Harry all to himself; he hates that other people get to experience this, the way his cheeks are flushed red and his lips are soft and swollen and his hair looks like a tornado that sucked up a flower bed amidst its rampage. No one else could ever appreciate it as much as he does.

Harry notices his distant stare, of course. He always fucking notices.

“Hey,” He says softly, turning Louis’ head up and meeting his eyes with blinding compassion. “What’s the matter?”

Louis doesn’t answer. How can he? Harry can’t know how attached he’s getting from this fooling around, that would surely ruin their friendship and send him running. Something catches in his throat and he feels like he’s going to cry, he’s so frustrated, but he knows if he does it’ll only earn him pity and that’s the last thing he wants from Harry, especially right now.

He turns his head, breaking their stare, and wills himself to keep it hidden.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Harry coos, petting his hair. “Louis, are you okay? Don’t cry, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry can tell that he’s trying to hold back tears, and dammit Louis wishes he was standing on a bridge so he could fucking jump off it right now.

“Lou, are you…” Harry doesn’t even know how to put it into words. “Do you not want to… I mean, we don’t have to do this, you know. If it makes you uncomfortable. We can just be normal friends. Please, don’t do this just because of me. I never want you to feel like you have to do anything for me.”

It takes Louis a minute to realize what Harry’s going on about. He catches his stare again and realizes the kid thinks he feels coerced into having sex with him.

Telling him that’s not why he’s upset would only bring up more questions. Questions that have answers like _I really fucking like you, but you don’t like me back_ and also _I’m a miserable and depressed little fuck. Love me, please?_ And no way is he even close to being ready to voice either of those things yet. He probably won’t ever be, it sounds so pathetic even in his mind that he just squints his eyes shut and stays silent.

Harry keeps rambling on. “I know I joke about this stuff a lot, and I’m sorry, I’ll stop if you want me to. I don’t mean it, honestly.” He says, tightening his grip and somehow managing to hug Louis even closer to him. His bare skin is warm against Louis’ chest and he focuses on the steady thump of his heart to calm his anxiety.

“I mean, I do, in the way that like, yeah, of course I want to have sex with you. Who wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous.” He keeps petting, soothing. “But I never want you to feel pressured into anything, god. Please don’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll stop.”

Louis cracks the tiniest hint of a smile. Even if it’s not to the same extent, at least Harry actually does care about him in some sort of way.

“Don’t stop.” He almost whispers, gently running a finger up the length of Harry’s arm, stopping at his bicep to trace over the tattoos there. “I like it. It makes me feel wanted.”

Harry smiles back, sugar and sunshine as usual. “Okay. But I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I like you Louis, as a person and a friend and…” He trips over his words, careful not to say anything that could get him in trouble. “…Just, it’s okay to say no. I’ll listen.”

“When am I ever afraid to tell you no?” Louis smirks. It’s a small victory in a way, because he gets to reject Harry on an almost daily basis, the same way he knows he’d be rejected if he ever had the guts to actually ask him out. “Besides, I’m the one who started it this time.”

Harry laughs. “I guess you’re right. You just scared me. You looked like you were about to cry or something.”

Louis walks his fingers up from the very bottom of the ship to the tippy top of its sails and stays silent. Of course he was about to cry, but if he doesn’t acknowledge it, Harry will get the hint that the subject’s closed.

“So we’re okay, then?” He checks, confirming Louis’ assumption that he’s not going to press on.

“Yeah. We’re good. Your o-face is cute, by the way.”

“Yours is phenomenal.” He returns, tickling his sides and sending him into a fit of giggles.

“It’s late. Can I stay over again?” He wonders.

“It’s eight-thirty.” Louis chuckles. He realizes the guys should’ve been home by now, and mentally thanks whatever higher power there is that they must have decided to go straight to the bar after work today.

“I already missed dinner.” Harry whines. “There’s no point now.”

“Are you going to make missing dinner a habit?”

“Will you let me make it a habit?”

“Your family’s going to hate me.” Louis groans.

“No.” Harry kisses his nose. “When they meet you, they’ll understand. They’ll adore you as much as I do.”

“Fine, but you have to promise: no more pictures!” He gives him a pointed look, but Harry just grins, showing off those ridiculous dimples.

“Done. One’s enough if I get to witness it in person more often.”

Louis rolls his eyes and adds, “And we’re sleeping in my bed tonight. The sofa hurts my back.”

“Will we be sleeping in your bed, or _sleeping_ in your bed?” Harry hums, using implied air quotes in his tone.

Louis playfully smacks him on the arm, but he can’t help the smile that brings crinkles to his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i seriously live for your comments, i read every single one and they always brighten my day even if it's just a little something! so please and thank you dears, never forget how much i love you <33


	8. Control your fear, it's clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your comments and continued interest! you make me smile so much with all your enthusiasm, and it's really keeping me motivated! i'll never be able to thank you enough. <3
> 
> a bit of harry's POV at the end of this one. i am infinitely satisfied with this whole chapter, so i hope you all enjoy it just as much :) xx

Louis remembers the very first time he saw Harry, the way his smile released a swarm of butterflies in his belly and how he had thought waking up to it every day would make him hate mornings much less. As it turns out, he happened to be very right about that.

It’s not Harry’s famous dimpled grin that comes into focus when he opens his eyes the next day, but a slight and soft something pulling his lips up at the corners. His eyes are glazed and lazy and there’s something so raw about them, and with the morning light pouring in through the window, everything seems to take on an incredible dream-like feel. He just can’t believe this is actually how he gets to start his day.

Harry brushes a piece of hair out of his face and greets him with a sleepy good morning.

“Morning.” Louis smiles back, and Harry leans in to kiss his nose.

“Your breath smells.” He complains, so Harry opens his mouth and breathes right in his face, hot and horrid.

“You’re disgusting!” Louis laughs around his dramatic coughing.

“You’re really cute in the morning.” Harry grins. “Your hair is _everywhere_.”

“So’s yours.” Louis retorts. “And you got squished petals all over my pillow case! It’s gonna stain.” He fake-pouts.

“Oops, sorry.” Says Harry. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“It better be Pokémon themed.” Louis demands. “That one was my favorite.”

“I’ll get you a hundred more of the exact same one, so that if I ever forget to take my flowers off and you wake up with a messy pillow again, you’ll have another to replace it right away.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Louis chuckles. He kind of likes that it’s soiled with Harry’s flowers though. He can’t smell it from his side of the bed, but he can bet it’s sweet and woodsy and clean like Harry’s familiar scent. And the soft, colorful smudges are sure to be a nice reminder of his presence.

“Speaking of gifts you’ll adore, did you get a chance to listen to the mix I made you yet?” Harry wonders.

“Of course, I listen to it in my car all the time.” Louis smiles, “I love it. It’s very you.” A bunch of random songs that make absolutely no sense when clustered together. It’s like having Harry’s iPod there on shuffle, a soundtrack set to inspire a montage of memories from all their days spent smoking up in each other’s rooms.

“Oh good, I'm so glad you’re happy with it.” Harry beams, “Which track is your favorite?”

“The one you got your ankle tats from.” Louis says immediately, “And the one by Amy Winehouse, ‘Our Day Will Come’? That one’s sweet. She had such a strong voice, it’s lovely.”

“She really did. It’s such a shame.” They share a brief moment of silence in her remembrance, but then he says, “That’s one of my favorites too, though.”

“Oh, and one more! Um, I can’t think of the name right now, but one part goes ‘control your fear, it’s clear, that you do not know where you’re going to’.” Louis sings the line, smooth and slow and admittedly a bit off-tune from its morning scratchiness. He’s not even trying to impress, but Harry’s eyes widen dearly and his mouth falls open a little.

“I think I just fell in love with you.” He deadpans.

Louis pushes against his arm. “Stop. I’m serious! It’s a nice song.”

“I’m serious, too!” Harry says, nodding intently. “It’s a great song, I agree. But your voice is… holy shit, Lou. I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I can’t.” Louis flushes.

“You can, though! Your voice is beautiful. It’s so pure and pretty.” Harry gushes. “Sing something else.”

“No.”

“Please, Louis? Pleeeease?” Harry begs.

“Can we get back to the music discussion? I’m already looking forward to Louis number two, so you better get to work on it soon.” He orders.

“Oh, I’m already working on Louis number six.” Harry admits. “I was planning to space them out so I wouldn’t overwhelm you, but you can have two through five now if you want. Or, well, I don’t have them with me, but I’ll bring them next time.”

“Perfect. I expect them all as soon as possible.” Louis says, primly.

“Fair warning, I’ve just decided I’m going to delete all the track names so you’ll have to sing lines from them in order for me to tell you what they’re called.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but cracks a smile. Logically, he could always just Google the lyrics to find out, but some part of him doesn’t really mind singing for Harry, especially if he’s going to get that much praise for it. He does secretly love singing, it’s just that he usually prefers to keep it to himself. Sometimes his friends will catch him around the flat when he’d thought there was no one home, so he’s heard that his voice is good before, but hearing it from Harry sets his heart a flutter.

“Fine. If you keep ‘em coming, I’ll sing you a whole song of your choice from each one.” Louis promises. “Just please keep the titles on. It’ll be such a pain to replace.”

“Deal.” Harry grins.

“Thanks, by the way.” Louis is sincere. “It’s been a while since I’ve expanded my music collection. I won’t even have to make an effort now, if you keep churning them out for me.”

“How long is a while?” Harry wonders.

Louis pauses, honestly thinking it over. “Uh, when did that ‘Wonderwall’ song come out?”

Harry’s jaw drops. He rises up on his arms to look down at Louis incredulously. “Louis, please tell me you’re joking. That was like, mid-nineties. Do you realize the nineties were more than twenty years ago? I hadn’t even started primary school yet.”

“How do you even remember, then?”

“I don’t!” He shrieks. “Not really, but I obviously know the song now, and I know when the album came out. I like Oasis.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis shrugs it off, trying again. “Is No Doubt still a thing? My sisters used to be obsessed with them.”

“They just got back together after like five years.” Harry’s shaking his head in disbelief. “Gwen Stefani had a solo career for a while. You don’t remember that song about bananas?”

Louis laughs. “Oh god, no. She wrote a song about bananas? No wonder they got back together, then. She must’ve flopped so hard.”

“Not even. She actually did pretty well on her own. That song was fucking everywhere for a while.” He falls back down on his stomach, actually physically exhausted from how out of the loop Louis is. “It wasn’t really about bananas. I think it was about hooking up with dudes and not calling them back, or maybe like, schoolyard fights or something. No one really knows for sure, but there’s a bunch of cheerleaders in the video and she just randomly breaks it down and starts spelling ‘bananas’ towards the end.”

“Sounds bananas.” Louis says, making Harry chuckle.

“It’s totally going on number six for you. God, I can’t believe you’ve never heard it. Were you living under a rock in a cave for all that time?”

“I like classic rock.” He defends. “I don’t pay much attention to newer stuff.”

“Well, no wonder you haven’t expanded your collection, you’re not even trying! You’ve missed out on some good music lately.” Harry sighs. “Never fear though, I’ll get you all caught up. Someday we’ll make it up to Louis number infinity and beyond.”

“Oh Harry, you’re my hero.” Louis swoons. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I can think of a few ways, just off the top of my head.” He smirks.

Louis pushes against his arm again, hard enough this time that he rolls over on his back and then right off the bed.

“You need to get ready for work.” Louis laughs.

“Ow. I think I’m sick today.” He does a fake cough from the floor. “I might have to call out.”

“No. You already skipped a day this week, don’t follow my example by making it a habit.”

“You didn’t seem to care much before.” Harry grumbles. “Now that you’ve got your own job again you’re suddenly all responsible and grown up? Boo.”

As if on cue, Louis’ phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s from an unknown number that turns out to be Kristen, calling him to schedule an interview already. Harry gets up from the floor and excuses himself to the bathroom to give Louis some privacy. He ends up chatting with her for a few minutes about how Ashton very graciously took it upon himself to recruit a new staff member, so he must be something special. Louis’ flattered by that, but steers to conversation to what a valued employee Ashton must be, and what a lovely place she owns, and how much he’d love to work there. It doesn’t even feel like bullshitting; he really is interested and hoping this goes well.

She seems like a pretty laid back, welcoming person, telling him to stop by “whenever’s convenient for you, I’ll be here all day”, and he ends the call with a promise to be there around noon.

He hops out of bed to put on a pot of tea and while he’s waiting for the brew to finish, Harry calls to him from the bathroom across the way.

“Lou, are you off the phone now?”

“Yeah, that was my new boss.” Louis shouts back. “I’ve got an interview today. I think I’m gonna head there when you leave, so I may or may not visit you at the shelter later.”

“Wanna join me in the shower then?” Harry suggests. “To make up for how bummed you’ve just made me.”

“Never in your wildest dreams.” Says Louis.

“ _Never_?” Harry whines.

“Maybe someday, but don’t get your hopes up.” Louis corrects. Not that the idea of showering with Harry isn’t exciting and arousing to him, but he’s still adjusting to the idea of their casual, friends-or-whatever-with-benefits thing. If that’s even what it is. Regardless, a shower is far too intimate for his liking right now.

“You’ll come to mine after you get off though, right? And stay for dinner with Gemma and my mum?” He checks.

Louis’ stomach twists because he’d almost forgotten. He does want to meet them, but he has plenty reason to be nervous about it too. Harry’s family is important to him, so he needs them to like him if he’s to ever possibly stand a chance someday.

“Of course.” He agrees, hoping Harry doesn’t notice the tiny crack in his voice.

“Good.” Harry says, and then, “Don’t worry, they’ll love you. They’re excited, too.”

Louis wishes he wouldn’t have said that, because now he knows he has expectations to live up to and that only makes it that much worse.

Harry finishes up and emerges from the bathroom stark naked and dripping wet, towel wrapped around his head rather than his waist. Louis actually chokes on his tea and Harry has to pat him on the back to make sure he’s breathing.

“You okay?” He checks.

“You’re completely nude.” Louis says. He can feel that his cheeks are flushed, even as he tries to not look directly at Harry’s bits.

“I like to air dry.” He shrugs.

“Could you air dry somewhere I’m not trying to enjoy a cuppa in peace?”

“Why, am I turning you on?” Harry teases.

“Go put some clothes on!” Louis orders, blatantly avoiding the question.

“Okay, but I didn’t pack a bag yesterday, so I’ll have to squeeze into something of yours.” Harry strolls into Louis’s room and Louis definitely doesn’t stare at the smooth curves of his bum, totally not noticing the contrast of it’s deliciously milky tone against the rest of his skin, beautifully bronzed from the summer sun.

“You wear the same outfit almost every day anyway.” Louis calls him out, keeping his drooling to a bare minimum. “But please, go ahead, help yourself.”

He comes out in his standard black skinnies from yesterday and one of Louis’s favorite shirts; the white one with the black sleeves and the big yellow triclops smiley face in the center. It’s old and a bit stretched from wear, so that’s probably why it fits him so snugly even though he's bigger. Louis can see the outline of his chiseled body through the fabric, but it’s not straining against them, it’s subtle and flattering. His hair is still wild and unruly and slightly damp from the shower and it’s kind of refreshing to see him without the flowers on his head. Louis still loves them, of course, but this Harry look is more natural and relaxed, yet still just as enchanting as ever.

“You look really good.” Louis says, mesmerized. “You should wear my clothes more often.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that invitation.” Harry grins. “It smells just like you. I love it.”

Harry sits with him a minute more before heading off to work, and Louis is sad to see him go. Since they woke up it’s felt like Harry’s his boyfriend and they’ve been living together long enough to have settled into a comfortable morning routine. He thinks maybe it’s not a good idea for Harry to keep spending the night if it’s only going to put those kinds of thoughts into his head and a yearning in his heart.

It’s so nice to have him around though, and he genuinely wants to be there. He’s the one who asked if he could stay after all, and Louis doesn’t have the strength to deny him something so sweet and adorable. He’ll just have to learn how to enjoy their mornings together and suck up the ache of wanting it to be only slightly different in a crucial way.

He heaves a deep sigh as he gets up and readies himself for his interview. It turns out to be exactly as casual as the phone call, more even, because after a few simple questions about his past work experience, somehow he and Kristen end up discussing their favorite foods and footie players, breezing through a few different topics and ending on sharing fashion tips.

She claims to be in love with his hair and gives a few suggestions that she knows would work well for him, like styling the fringe into a nice smooth swirl and letting the rest of it for a loose and curly frame around it. She asks to demonstrate and Louis feels so comfortable with her already that he agrees. Her attempt is poor and improper though, and Louis has to fix it back into place when she gives up, but they have a laugh over it and he tries to remember to test it for real someday.

She’s short like him and she’s got long, dark hair and dark eyes that she accents with smokey makeup that looks like it may have been on for a few days. He subtly inquires about that and she simply chuckles, admitting it’s because she’s been out late the past couple of nights and hasn’t had a chance (or cared enough) to bother refreshing it. He actually loves her for that, and loves this place, and even though it’s still _work_ , it seems like it’ll be a blast and he can’t wait to meet everyone else and get started.

At the end of the “interview”, she outright says she likes him; gives him a huge hug and calls him adorable, adding that she thinks he’ll be a great addition to the team and she’s looking forward to working with him. She says if he’s got an open schedule for the day, he can get started with orientation right away, so he spends the day shadowing Ashton during his shift, learning the ropes in between chatting and flirting (both with Ashton and the customers—apparently he’s a natural) and generally goofing off.

Ashton is nineteen but acts like he’s nine and that’s what makes him so easy and fun to be around. There’s no pressure, cause he’s cheery and friendly and easily amused like a little kid. They quickly fall into a niche of acting like preschoolers together. Flinging pieces of candy at each other and trying to catch it in their mouth, shoving the other’s nose in their yogurt while they’re trying to eat, making faces and doing ridiculous motions and dances to make each other laugh while they’re trying to help customers.

By the end of it all, Louis is feeling blessed and refreshed, like maybe all those other rejected applications were meant to be, because this place is enjoyable and uplifting and he thinks he actually won’t mind it too much. He may even be turning into one of those people that actually _likes_ their job. Zayn’d get a kick out of hearing that.

\--

“How was it?” Harry asks as soon as Louis enters his basement-room that evening.

“Perfect.” Louis smiles. “My boss is awesome, it was hardly even an interview. We just chatted like old friends and she said she really likes me. I like her too.” He says, plopping himself down on the bed next to Harry, making himself comfortable. Harry’s in the middle of a joint, so he takes a hit when it’s offered to him, before continuing his story.

“So I had my orientation right away, and Ashton, the one who got me in in the first place, he’s a lot of fun. He was sort of teaching me what to do, but it’s not like there’s much to go over. It’s mostly just filling a cup with yogurt and adding requested toppings, refilling things that need it, and keeping the place clean. It’ll be a breeze. We really just fucked around the whole time.” He chuckles fondly as he passes it back.

“Did you get to meet any of your other coworkers yet?” Harry wonders, taking a long drag.

“No, not yet.” Says Louis. “There’s usually only one or two people there for weekdays. Weekends are busier so that’s when most of the staff is on. I’m supposed to spend the week training with Ashton, and then Saturday is my first official day, so I guess that’s when I’ll meet everyone else.”

“Well, I’m glad you like who you have met.” Harry passes it back again and Louis only takes a small hit this time, careful to just catch a buzz so he’ll be able to especially enjoy the upcoming meal, but won’t be totally out of it when Harry’s family comes home to join them for it.

“Ashton is really cool though and he’s friends with all of them, so they must be okay too.” He says on exhale.

“You sure seem to like this Ashton guy.” Harry notices.

Louis shrugs. “I’m just excited, I guess. My old coworkers were a bunch of old ladies. It’s cool having someone a bit easier to connect with.”

“Is he your age, then?” Harry wonders.

“Physically, _your_ age.” Louis says. “Mental age, five or six.”

“So he’s a baby.” Harry concludes, slightly bitter.

Louis laughs. “No more than you or I.”

“Is he cute?” Harry presses.

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, he’s good-looking. That’s kinda the shop’s thing. Only fit people allowed on staff.”

“So he’s more hot than cute.” Harry deduces, and for the first time Louis thinks he’s being a little weird about this.

“There’s a difference?”

“You know there is. You used to hate when I called you cute.” Harry pokes him in the side. “So which is this Ashton person?”

“He’s just,” Louis shrugs again. “Attractive. I don’t know, it’s not like that for me.”

He does know, though. Ashton is cute sometimes, like when he giggles really soft and small but you can still see the dimples in his cheeks, or how he sings his “hi”s with a big bright smile to every customer instead of just saying it normally. Then, when he does things like flip his head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes, or how he sometimes licks his lips between words just as a weird habit, or when he talks too fast and his accent gets extra thick, he’s incredibly hot.

The fact that he’s noticing these little details about the kid already, and that he’s avoiding telling Harry about it makes him think maybe it _is_ like that. A little. But he doesn’t correct himself, because it’s really weird and confusing and he’s just not ready to address it yet.

“Well, they made the right choice picking you for the job.” Harry smiles, finally satisfied. “You’re cuter than everyone.”

“‘Everyone’ being?”

“Everyone. The whole planet.” Harry pulls him in for a cuddle and kisses his forehead. “No one is cuter than Louis.”

“You are.” Louis argues, but Harry is having none of it.

“C’mon cutie, let’s get dinner started.” Harry lifts him off the bed and carries him upstairs, and fuck, Louis still isn’t used to being held so effortlessly. Harry only does it occasionally, but it’s still pleasantly surprising every single time.

“You mean _you_ cook dinner every night?” Louis asks, though he’s not really sure why it’s a shock.

“Just when I’m home before my mum.” Harry says. “And I usually make a lot, so there’s plenty of leftovers for them to heat up for when I’m not around.”

“That’s thoughtful.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s no big deal. They work hard and I have it easier, so it’s no trouble to help out.”

He sets Louis down on the counter and his legs dangle over the edge as he sits to watch Harry in the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu?” He wonders.

“Steak, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables.” Harry says. He brings a large pot of water to a boil and gets started peeling and chopping the potatoes over the sink.

“Steak?” Louis is incredulous. “Since when do you cook meat?”

“I mean, I know _how_. I just don’t like to.”

“So does your family usually eat vegetarian because of you then?”

“Mostly, yeah, but I know they prefer having some kind of meat with their meals, so I do what I can.” He explains. “And tonight is a special occasion, so I figured I may as well.”

They don’t talk much in the kitchen. Louis can tell Harry’s in his element, precisely chopping and seasoning and preparing the side dishes. There’s a little crinkle between his eyes that gives away his concentration and Louis doesn’t want to break that. Plus, he looks really domestic and like he knows exactly what he’s doing, so it’s pretty hot to watch.

Harry throws the potatoes in the boiling water and lets them soften a bit before pulling the marinated steaks out of the fridge. He opens the container, takes one look inside, and hesitates.

“I can’t.” He frowns. “Louis, will you cook them for me?”

“Me?” Louis is shocked. “Harry, I don’t know if you know this, but I can’t even cook cereal without burning it.”

Harry laughs. “How do you _burn_ cereal? There’s nothing to heat up!”

He crosses his arms, pouting. “It’s a long story.” He mumbles. “Point is, I’m hopeless in the kitchen. I can’t.”

“Please, Lou?” Harry begs. “I’ll teach you how. I just can’t do it myself.”

“Why not? You just said you’re used to it sometimes.”

“Never steak.” He whines. “Chicken or pork, maybe. But this is all red and bloody and sad. I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t you have to prepare them this morning or something?”

“My mum did it before work.” He says. “So they’re all flavored and everything. You just have to put them on the skillet and flip them and like, poke at them and stuff.”

Louis wonders if he’s just imagining the way his skin seems to lose color as he talks about it. His eyes are wide and pleading and he looks so desperate that Louis doesn’t know how to say no to that.

“Okay.” He says, tentatively. “But if I mess up, I’m running out the door before your family gets home and shuns me for ruining dinner.”

It’s fine, of course. Harry doesn’t look in the pan at all while he mashes the potatoes, adds butter and garlic and seasonings and mixes it all up in a big bowl, but he gives Louis exact directions all the way.

Just put them in the skillet and wait. When they turn brown underneath, flip them over to the other side. Wait. Poke the middle with a fork to see if blood comes out. Flip them over again. Wait. Wait. Wait. Keep waiting… Flip. Wait some more. Cut a slit on one side to make sure the middle’s still pink. How pink? Just a little? Okay good, they should be done. Turn off the fryer.

“Ha! That wasn’t so bad.” Louis beams. In the time it took him to finish, Harry’s already got the vegetables and potatoes and gravy done and he’s even put rolls in the oven to heat up.

“You should be on Top Chef.” Harry teases.

“I should!” Louis agrees. “I’m calling first thing tomorrow to demand a slot.”

“When you get the job, does that mean I get another reward?” Harry grins.

“You’ll be hanging with a near celebrity,” Louis replies, “I think I’ll be the one deserving of the rewards, lest you lose my affections and your second hand spotlight.”

“Celebrity status not even needed, you can have one right now if you want.” Harry offers.

“Harry!” Louis smacks him on the shoulder. “In the kitchen? After we’ve just prepared food and your dear mum is on her way home? You’re filthy.”

Harry just laughs, closing the distance between them to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist and pull him in for a kiss. Louis lets him, because he’s warm and strong and his lips are soft and familiar and there’s a shiver down his spine and a spark in his groin and goddammit, he suddenly does want it.

Harry pulls away for a moment, brushing his hair out of his face and telling him lowly, “You did an excellent job, babe. I wanna thank you for helping me out.”

He catches Louis’ bottom lip in his mouth and his hands slither their way down to his bum, grasping and kneading, rutting their hips together. Louis welcomes the touch and the tongue that slips into his mouth and he lets out a soft little moan because god, it’s hot knowing someone could walk in and find them.

“Oh dear.” A distinctly feminine voice gasps, and just like that, it’s not hot anymore. Louis pulls away and wriggles out of Harry’s grasp, he swears he’s never moved quicker in his entire life.

It’s Harry’s mum of course, tiny and pretty and slightly startled from the horrible, awful, worst first impression ever. Louis wishes a chasm would open up on the ground beneath him so he could fall to his death, just to escape this moment.

“Mum! You’re early!” Harry’s cheeks pink and his arms hide behind his back, as if to prove they definitely weren’t doing anything naughty like grabbing handfuls of Louis’ arse only moments ago. He hesitates, and then dashes over to wrap his arms around her in a hug.

“Only a few minutes.” A younger woman with light blonde hair strolls into the room, bearing a huge, knowing grin on her face. She shoots a pointed look at Harry and he reddens even more.

“You must be Louis.” She extends her arm out for him to shake and he does, without too much eye contact. “I’m Gemma. Great to finally meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you.” He smiles. “And you too, miss…” He trails off, looking towards Harry’s mum, not knowing how to address her.

“Oh, call me Anne.” She graciously supplies.

“Miss Anne.”

“Just Anne is fine.” She corrects. “’Miss Anne’ makes me feel old.”

“Harry, you made steak?!” Gemma screeches, noticing the still steaming skillet.

“Louis did.” He grins, clearly proud of his little prodigy.

“Wow, good on you, Louis!” She pats him on the shoulder. “Tell me again why you haven’t wifed him up yet?” She asks Harry, dipping her finger in the mashed potatoes for a taste.

“Gem-ma!” Harry whines.

“Sorry. I’m just sayin’, I like this one already.”

“Thanks.” Louis beams. “I can also make an expert cuppa, but don’t ask me to do anything else unless you want your kitchen set on fire.”

Gemma and Anne both laugh, making Louis’ inside start a collective shout of glee;  _they like me, they like me, they really, really like me!_ Crisis averted.

“So you’re not actually that great of a cook.” Gemma concludes.

“I don’t even remember my last attempt before this.” He admits. “So I apologize ahead of time if it’s not up to standard. The only reason I did it is ‘cause Harry was whining about the blood.”

“Oh, are you ever going to get over your ridiculous fear of meat?” His mum berates, pulling out her chair and flopping down into it. She definitely looks beat, that’s for sure. He doesn’t blame her, with the hours she works. No wonder Harry is always so eager to help out around the house.

“It’s not a fear.” Harry grumbles. “I just think it’s horrible and gross.”

“You looked pretty scared to me.” Louis says. “Your face turned absolutely pale. I thought you were going to throw up.”

“That sounds like Harry.” Gemma nods in agreement.

“Can you stop teasing me now and sit down for the lovely feast we’ve slaved over to prepare for you guys?” Harry quips, pulling the rolls out of the oven and setting the tray on the counter to cool.

“You mean Louis slaved over.” Gemma corrects.

“Louis is a godsend for you cause we’d be eating all vegetarian again without him, but I made everything else.”

“All I heard was ‘Louis is a godsend’.” Gemma says, making everyone laugh.

Dinner is fantastic, for the food and atmosphere. The both of them compliment Louis on his steak-frying skills, despite the fact that he thanks Anne for being the one to marinate it. Everything else is classic Harry-level delicious, as per expectation.

Louis gets on with Gemma easily, as they both switch between poking fun at Harry and praising him in between bites. Anne is a bit quiet, but she smiles along the whole time and Louis catches her sharing a few approving glances with Harry from across the table. He’s over the moon that they seem to like him so much. He likes them a lot too, and he can’t help but stupidly picture them together like this on the regular, for birthdays and holidays and graduations and other standard family events. He knows his family would mesh wonderfully, and by the end of the meal he’s even more excited to introduce Harry to them someday soon.

“Louis, it was lovely to finally meet you.” Anne says, smiling warmly as she pulls him in for a goodbye hug. “Don’t make yourself such a stranger anymore, you’re always welcome in our home.” She kisses him on the forehead and Louis realizes that’s probably where Harry picked it up from and he’s a bit choked up with how cute of a family they all are.

“Please come back soon,” Gemma hugs him tight, too. “It gets a bit grueling to deal with just Harry all the time. And maybe we wouldn’t have to eat like herbivores so often.” She cracks a cheeky smile that Louis immediately returns.

“It was great meeting you ladies, too. I’ll definitely be back sometime.” Louis says as he makes his exit. “I’ll practice my cooking skills just to impress you some more.”

“Looking forward to it!” Gemma giggles as she waves him off and closes the door behind him.

-/-

Thier mum hugs and kisses both of them goodnight too, and then she’s making her way upstairs to bed while the two of them volunteer to finish cleaning the kitchen. There isn’t much left since Louis stayed to help rinse everything off, but the dishes still need to be put away and the leftovers properly stored in the fridge.

“Harry, what the fuck are you doing?” Gemma snaps at him as soon as they’re left alone.

Harry frowns. “You don’t like him?”

“He’s fantastic,” She gushes. “Really. He’s pretty and lovely and sweet and funny and just, absolutely wonderful.”

“I know, right?” Harry beams.

“Which is why I’m wondering why the fuck he’s not your boyfriend already.”

Harry flushes. “It’s not like that.”

“And why not?” She presses. “He’s obviously in love with you, and we all know you’re mad over him too, so why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

“He is not in love with me.” Harry denies.

“Pretty damn close to it, at least.”

“Are you insane?” Harry puzzles. “He’s not. We’re just friends. He’s been saying it since like, forever. He doesn’t want me that way.”

“It’s amazing to me that you can’t see it.” Gemma says, awestruck.

“There’s nothing to see.” Harry’s whole body heats up with a weird mixture of doubt and anger. She’s getting his hopes up over nothing, because Louis doesn’t like him like that because why would he? He’s everything she just said he was and Harry is none of those things and worse.

“You don’t know what it’s like when we’re alone. He’s just kind of… indifferent. We kiss and cuddle sometimes, but he never starts it. And like, I can hardly keep my hands off him, but it’s not the same way for him.” He sighs, feeling the stab in his heart from the truth of his own observations.

“You are dead wrong, Harry, trust me. The way he looks at you, it’s real.” She shakes her head. “It has to be, because you’re really not _that_ great,” She teases, and they share a brief playful smirk before it’s back to business. “But he clearly thinks you’re the center of the universe.”

Even if it were true, there’s no way he could live up to it. He’s never had a relationship that didn’t fail because of his own selfish needs, and he won’t do that to Louis. Plus there’s the fact that all of his exes end up hating him, and it’s just not something he can ever risk with Louis. He’d rather be just a friend forever than a future evil ex.

“You can’t just string him along like this forever.” She breaks his thought process. “Someday, someone else is gonna swoop in and go for it and if you keep him waiting for too long, he’s gonna get away.”

“Good. I hope he does. He deserves it.” Harry says stubbornly, almost a whisper. He’s reminded of Ashton and how Louis seemed to light up when talking about him today, how excited he was to start working with him. It’s still early, but maybe something will bloom between them and they can be happy together. Whoever he is, he’d be lucky to have Louis.

The thought of Louis with someone else is painful; a deep, soul-afflicting ache, but it beats Harry himself being the one to lift him up and then eventually break him down.

“Oh God,” Gemma rolls her eyes, sighing deeply. “If this has to do with Nick or your stupid commitment issues or whatever, it’s about time you get the fuck over it. He _likes_ you, Harry. And you like him and it’s fucking frustrating to watch you pine over him like this, especially now that I know you could solve everything if you just made a move.”

“If he likes me so much, then why doesn’t he make a move, hm?” Harry defends. “Why do I have to be the one to do it?”

“Because you’re the one holding back!” She accidentally shouts, quickly lowering her voice again after realizing their mum is trying to sleep upstairs. “However you are when it’s just the two of you, tonight I saw a guy who would cartwheel to the moon and back just to make you smile, and I think you’re an idiot if you let that go.”

“Of course he would. He’s my best friend, he cares about me. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Not even if you paid me.” Gemma deadpans.

“And the award for sister-friend of the year goes to…”

Gemma chuckles. “I’m serious though, Harry. You need to do something about this. If you let him slip through your fingers, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Harry starts to object again, but Gemma cuts him off. “Discussion over. That’s all I have to say on the matter. You know how I feel about it, and now I’m going to bed. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Should I stop by the shop to help out tomorrow?”

“Nah, we’ll be fine.” She waves him off as she ascends the stairs. “Go spend some time with your boyfriend while you still can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you should know by now how comment hungry i am, so never fear to click that button and share your thoughts with me! and i love you for reading regardless <3


	9. Please say to me, you'll let me be your man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, thank you thank you thank you for all your comments and kudos and love. i try to reply to mostly everything, but there's only so many ways you can say thanks, so just know i appreciate each and every one even if i don't acknowledge it. you are all so lovely to me. <3
> 
> this chap starts from lou's pov, goes to harry's for a bit in the middle, and then ends with louis again. honestly, this is so long it probably could've been separated into two chapters, but that wouldn't have felt right, so enjoy! xx

After two weeks at the shop, Louis is completely settled. It’s still work, so he dreads getting up early and parting with Harry in the mornings (who’s slept over every single night lately—he’s practically moved in now), but it’s okay because they text constantly and Louis is actually enjoying himself at work most of the time anyways. He’s gotten to know his other coworkers and he can finally say he’s expanded his previously narrow social circle; he actually has friends of his own now, who he didn’t meet through Zayn and Liam or Niall or Harry. They’re just his, and it’s nice.

There’s Michael, who’s the most easy-going person in the world. He smiles a lot, and sports a different hair color every few days. Currently, it’s bleach blonde. Calum thinks he’s hood (ironically enough, his last name is Hood—a fact he never lets anyone forget), backwards snapbacks are glued onto his head at all times, and he blasts hip hop throughout the shop and teaches everyone the latest dance moves on slow days. And then there’s Luke, who at just seventeen is the youngest of the bunch, yet probably the most mature of them all. He usually doesn’t have much to say, but he’s always there, laughing along with the rest of them and he’s so honest and real that you just know it’s genuine enjoyment.

The four of them are in a band together, so when any of them are on at the same time, conversation always ends up turning into music and lyrics.

“That girl I was just chatting up told me some nice little secrets,” Michael grins from ear to ear, waggling his eyebrows. “Gave me her number, told me to call her _anytime_.”

“Her?” Louis is shocked. She was a dainty little brunette with trusting eyes and a pretty smile. “She looked so _good_ and nice though.”

“It’s always the innocent ones!” Calum laughs. “Good girls are just bad girls who don’t get caught.”

“The damn truth.” Michael high fives him.

“Good girls are bad girls who haven’t been caught.” Ashton recites, pensively. He taps out a beat on the top of the table and the rest of them jump in right away, shooting off lyrics and adding to it; Luke even scribbles a quick music sheet down onto a napkin and strings some guitar notes together.

Louis is highly impressed with their on-the-spot song writing. The dynamic between them is crazy to witness—they’re always on the same page and they seem to just _get_ each other so easily. It’s like four legs of the same animal, moving in perfect sync at all times. He’s worked with all of them two times before this, and each time they’ve come up with something new, making up tunes and pulling lines from things out of midair. He wishes he could be that creative.

“What exactly did you guys talk about anyway?” Ashton wonders, once they’ve hit a momentary road block.

“Things.” Michael says simply. “Let’s just say I’m definitely not losing her number.” Which is saying a lot, because with all the flirting they rack up a lot of seriously interested women and hardly any of them make the cut.

The day goes on much like that. They do end up having a couple big rushes wherein they all have to scramble around to fill orders and make sure every customer is satisfied, and then suddenly everyone’s gone and the shop is dead again, so one by one they start heading out. Luke is the first to leave, and once he’s on the other side, he looks back at them through the glass, twists his face into an ugly expression and presses it against the window, grinning madly when they all give him one back. So much for maturity.

Calum and Michael are gone an hour later, sparing Louis and Ashton a last “see ya tomorrow!” as they push and chase each other out the door, laughing all the way.

Then it’s just the two of them again like it usually is during the week, and the place is empty except for a few sporadic to-go customers, so they fill a large cup with an absurd mix of all the flavors they have and dig in. Unfortunately, things like coconut and banana rum don’t mesh very well with the sweeter flavors, like strawberry and cotton candy.

“This is disgusting.” Ashton says after the first bite.

“Absolutely awful.” Louis agrees, but they both take another bite, and another after that, and another because they’re five and can’t stand the thought of wasting all that food.

Finally, Louis throws a handful of jellybeans on top to hopefully improve the taste, so Ashton adds gummy bears and Oreo bits and then they’re both laughing along as they throw in sprinkles and cashews and walnuts and Resse’s Pieces and peaches, anything they can get their hands on, until they’ve added the whole topping bar and that only ends up making it much, much worse. They try to stomach a few more bites, but Louis’ stomach starts to feel weird, he’s having trouble holding it in and soon he’s running to the nearest trash can to stick his face in and puke it all back up.

Ashton laughs so hard he’s doubled over, clutching his abs and begging for mercy.

“Have you quite finished?” Louis pouts, brushing the hair off his forehead and dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. It takes Ashton four whole minutes to recover.

“Yeah,” He says breathlessly, wiping a tear out from the corner of his eye. “I win.” He grins.

“You’re vile.” Louis makes a face. “That was the most wretched creation in all of history. We should get a world record or something.”

“ _I_ should get a world record for being able to keep it down.” Ashton brags.

“If there were a world record for shutting the fuck up, you wouldn’t even be in the running.”

“Meow.” Ashton dramatically claws at the air. “Did someone forget to take their Midol this morning?”

“Why yes I did, actually. Have you got some to spare?” Louis quips right back, and Ashton sports a cheeky smirk.

A single customer walks in then and Louis volunteers to help her.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” He asks from behind the register.

“Just a minute, still deciding.” She tells him.

“That’s fine, whenever you’re ready.” Louis’s smile grows a bit too big, thanks to Ashton who’s sitting at the table right in his line of vision, doing ridiculously over exaggerated model poses; crossing his legs, puffing his chest out, biting his lip, tousling his hair, breaking his back with the awkward positions he’s twisting it into.

“Okay, I’ll just have a scoop of raspberry with sprinkles and whipped cream.” The girl says after a moment.

“That all?” Louis prompts and she nods, but he’s distracted again by Ashton making bedroom eyes and kissy lips at him. He tries to stifle a laugh and the girl looks curiously over her shoulder to see what’s so funny, but Ashton quickly defaults to a normal stance, casually scooping up a bite of his yogurt before she catches him.

“Sorry.” Louis apologizes, grinning from ear to ear as he prepares her order. “It’s just… you have lovely eyes. Are those flecks of gold I see in them?”

The girl flushes, and Louis suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at how easy this is.

“Thank you.” She smiles slightly. “They’re contacts, actually.”

“Well, I couldn’t tell.” He says, spraying a dash of whipped cream on top as he hands it over the counter. “They must be meant to be worn by you.”

She says something else, but he doesn’t catch what it is because Ashton’s now wordlessly mimicking her behind her back, fluttering his eyelashes and smiling shyly, waving his hand in a way that says “oh, stop it you”.

“You have a great day.” He tells her, smiling all the way as he waves her goodbye.

“Fuck you!” He finally laughs, throwing an Oreo piece at Ashton’s head as soon as they’re alone again. He ducks out of the way before it hits him.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Ashton grins.

“You win that round, but just wait till it’s your turn.”

“You can’t break my concentration. I’m an expert fake-flirter. Not like you, ‘your eyes are lovely, is there gold in them?’” He mimics Louis’s tone.

“Hey, I’m still new at this, I have an excuse.” Louis defends. “Besides, she seemed pretty flattered.”

“It’s cause you’re so cute.” Ashton says, pinching his cheek like an old relative. “You could’ve told her that outfit made her look fat and she’d have smiled and pretended to take it as a compliment just to make you happy.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You really don’t know how hot you are, do you?” He hums. “People will do anything for a pretty face.”

“ _You_ won’t stop messing with me while I’m trying to be a good employee.” Louis accuses.

“You love it.” Ashton sticks his tongue out. “Plus, Kristen always says that part of being a good worker is not taking things too seriously, otherwise everyone gets mean and miserable. So really, I’m making you better. I deserve a medal or something.”

“World’s Biggest Idiot?”

“Only for you, Lou.” Ashton swoons.

Another customer comes in with her friend and it’s Louis’s turn to mess with Ash this time. He’s so prepared, too, but then he gets a text from Harry, so he ends up just sitting down and paying too much attention to his phone the whole time.

Harry’s sent him a selfie of the top of his head. It cuts off right underneath those big green glass bottle eyes, which are looking upwards to the tiny calico kitten all coiled up asleep, looking like a cute little cinnamon bun snuggled in his curls. As if that weren’t already precious enough, the ring of dainty pink and white petals surrounding it is enough to make him have to bite his bottom lip to hold back the embarrassingly high, adoring squeal that’s dying to escape.

_Princess Harry has changed his mind about the crown. He wants only adorable baby kitties on his head from now on._

I think the flowers and the kitten go together perfectly. Like a PB&J, but better.

_PB &J, mac & cheese, milk & cookies, flowers & kitties… Haz & Lou? .xx_

His heart skips a beat and drops in the same instant because honestly, he’s starting to get tired of all this. Lately it’s felt like the lines are blurred between them, because they kiss and cuddle and touch all the time, and Harry showers him with compliments any chance he gets and gives him stupid pet names and says things like _Haz & Lou_ so casually, like he doesn’t even understand all the ways it could be mistaken. They share a bed and a life, really, because Harry is always there or texting when he’s not and they do everything together and talk about everything together, that is everything except what the fuck all of it means.

It feels like they’re dating or least that Harry likes him, but he won’t let himself believe it because nothing’s happening. It’s just this, all the time, and they’ve been this way for so long that if it were going to go anywhere, he thinks it would’ve by now. Harry is the type of person who goes after what he wants, especially when it comes to people. He isn’t afraid to hint towards sex or make a real move with anyone, so if he truly wanted Louis he could have him at the drop of a hat and he must know that by now.

So maybe this is just how Harry is with his best friends. Maybe every single one before Louis got the same treatment and it never meant anything beyond _I like you and care about you in a strictly platonic way, but this is how I show that affection_ and that’s all it’ll ever mean.

Yeah, Haz & Lou :) Louis agrees, smiling softly, half-hearted from the little wistful ache behind it.

“Total missed opportunity,” Ashton interrupts, pulling the chair out across from him and collapsing into it. “That girl was actually hot. I was flustered talking to her anyways, so you might have actually won if you weren’t glued to your phone.”

“She’ll be back.” Louis shrugs.

“Hope so.”

It’s quiet between them for a minute; Louis is lost in thoughts of curls and kittens. So much has changed since the first day they met, it seems like a whole separate lifetime ago. Who even was he before Harry? It’s hard to recall much of what things were like without him, probably because Louis was barely even present for it. This uncertainty definitely beats the numbness, at least.

“So, what’cha up to tonight?” Ashton wonders randomly.

“Probably just gonna hang around with Harry.” He still talks about him all the fucking time (like word vomit; he hates it but he just can’t stop), so Ashton knows who he means. “How about you? Friday night, any big plans?”

“Well, I’m closing here so I won’t get home till late-ish.” Ashton sighs and hesitates for a moment, focusing on his fidgeting hands in front of him. “But I thought… maybe we could catch a movie or something. I mean, if you want to.”

“Oh, is there something you wanna see?” Louis completely misses the implication in his undertone.

“Yeah, I still haven’t gotten around to seeing Monster’s University yet. No one wants to go with me!” Ashton crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his bottom lip out, pouting. “They all think cartoons are just a kid thing, but I figured you’d be into it cause like… you’re you.” He chuckles, and Louis can’t help but crack a smile.

“Oh, so I’m just your second choice then? I see how it is.”

“Sixth or seventh, actually. I’ve lost count.” Ashton’s grin is wide and teasing.

“I’m tempted to turn you down. I’m no one’s sixth or seventh choice. Second or third, _maybe_ , but seventh? How dare you.”

Ashton chuckles and nervously flips his fringe out of his face. “Alright, alright, in all honesty, I didn’t ask anyone else. You know the guys would definitely go if I did… but like, I don’t know.” He shrugs, “I thought maybe we could go just us, together.”

Still, it takes Louis a minute for it to sink in.

“Are you asking me out?” He cocks his head to the side.

Ashton’s smile spreads only a fraction of a second slower than the blush that immediately jumps right onto his cheeks. “Maybe. Sort of. Yeah.”

“So… this would be like, a date?” He’s not even sure how to feel. Confused, mostly, because Ashton is cute and they have fun together and yeah, they flirt a lot, but he never thought any of that might mean something to him. Probably because Harry’s already got all of his romantic attention, but maybe if he weren’t in the picture then Ashton would actually be an option.

“Yeah, I guess. Or you know, whatever. It could just be a friendly thing, if you want.” He tries to make it seem like it’s not a big deal either way, but Ashton is a baby bunny who wears his heart on his sleeve and his big, expectant eyes give away how high his hopes are.

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea to date a coworker.” Louis bites his lip.

Ashton chuckles lightly. “It’s just one date, we’re not getting married or anything.”

“Yeah, but if it doesn’t work out…”

“Then we’ll just drop it and stay cool.” He says, shrugging. “I think we can handle it. We’re both mature adults, sometimes.”

“I guess you’re right.” Louis smiles, considering. He’s thinking about Harry of course, but at this point he almost wants to kick himself in the head for still holding on to the idea that they could ever be something someday. It’s pointless for him to miss out on his own love life just because he has a pathetically unrequited crush on his best friend.

This is the first time he’s ever even considered that there could be any sort of romance in his life outside of Harry, though. It’s overwhelming and disorienting. He needs time to adjust.

“I don’t know, though.” He sighs.

“That’s a no.” Ashton’s face falls.

“It’s an ‘I’ll get back to you.’” Louis comforts.

“Which means no.” Ashton assumes, and then before Louis can contradict him he adds, “It’s alright though. It could totally be just a friendly hang out. Or you don’t have to go at all if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” Louis assures him. He does like Ashton a lot as a good friend at the very least, and his therapist’s advice about making connections outside of Harry rings in his ears. This is good for him. “I just don’t know if it’s a date yet.”

Ashton chuckles lightly. “Okay, that’s fine. I think we get off at the same time tomorrow, yeah? So we can just go straight from here to the movies.”

“Let’s go tonight.” Louis decides.

“Really? I don’t want you to break plans for me.”

“No, it’s fine. Harry will understand. We hang out all the time anyway, so it’s no big deal.” He says. “I wanna do something different tonight.”

“Cool.” Ashton’s cheeks dimple with his ridiculous grin. “I’ll pick you up when I get out of here then?”

-/-

Harry’s in Louis’ room later, when they’re both off for the night. They’ve had a few bowls already and now they’re just lying together, soft music in the background, Louis’ head in his lap as giant fingers play with the feathers of his fringe.

“Ashton asked me out today.” Louis blurts, and Harry’s heart speeds up. He sort of saw this coming with the way Louis has been going on about the guy lately, but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Ashton doesn’t waste time, apparently.

“Really?” Harry raises his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “What’d you say?”

“I didn’t say no.” Louis admits, and suddenly his throat feels tight.

“So… are you like, into him then, or what?” He feels like his distress is obvious in his tentative tone.

“I don’t know. He’s nice and attractive and we have fun together. So, maybe.” Louis shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his words are tiny darts and the target’s pinned on Harry’s heart.

“So you’re gonna go out with him?” He keeps his cool on the outside, but just under the surface it’s all panicked screams of _nononono_ and _minemineminemine_.

“Yeah. Tonight. Can’t hurt to give it a try, I guess.”

Gemma was right. Of course other people would want Louis, he’s pretty and sweet and huggable and lovable; anyone in their right mind would want him. Of course he wouldn’t be available forever. Harry’s known that for quite some time now, but this is the first anyone’s actually tried to take Louis away from him, or at least the first time he’s hearing about it, and that’s what it takes for the realization to come crashing down like a tsunami on a deserted island, flooding everything, pulling bits and pieces back out to sea with its retreat, leaving the landscape littered with debris and chaos. It’s all jumbled up and out of place and he’s suddenly scrambling to make sense of it and restore the peace and balance back to his tiny little home in his tiny little Louis.

“I guess.” He agrees, pausing after to consider his words. How can he possibly stop this from happening now? “But you guys work together. Won’t that be weird?”

“You’ve slept with all your coworkers, is that weird?” Louis retorts.

“That’s just sex though. Dating is different.”

“We’re not _dating_ , it’s just one date.”

“But if it goes well, won’t that lead to more?”

“I don’t know, Harry, jeez. I haven’t even been out with him once yet.” Louis kind of snaps, making Harry quickly recoil. He hadn’t realized the extent to which he’d been grilling him, but the idea of Louis on a date with someone else just turns him mental.

“I just want to make sure you’re thinking this through.” He says, lamely.

He can’t tell Louis how he feels now because how fucking manipulative is that? _Don’t go out with him because I like you and you’re mine, stay here with me_. His stomach lurches just thinking about it. He’s reminding himself of Nick in some twisted sort of way, thinking that he has any sort of rightful claim on Louis; knowing that if he did say those words, it would work regardless of how Louis feels about him. He’d stay if he thought it’s what Harry needed, but that’s not fair to him at all.

“Thanks, mum.” Louis quips. “But I can think for myself, you know.”

“You’re right.” He backs off then, being completely defeated for the moment. He needs to stop worrying now, before it gets out of hand because Louis’ right, it’s just one date. That doesn’t mean much yet.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.” He switches to stroking Louis’ cheek, because now he’s clearly upset and Harry never wants Louis to feel that way, especially if he’s the reason behind it.

“Whatever.” Louis just sits up and turns his head away.

“Hey, hey, I really am sorry.” Harry apologizes again, and he swallows big and mentally punches himself in the stomach because what the fuck is he about to say? “Go on your date. Don’t worry about all that, just have fun and see where it goes.”

“You mean it?” Louis’ eyes are soft and searching, probably for approval, and Harry’s willing to say anything just to make him happy.

“Yeah, of course.” He manages, pulling Louis in for a hug. He holds him just a second too long because he’s wondering if the next time will be different, taboo or something, if he belongs to someone else.

\--

Later that night, after the subject had long since been dropped but still lingered in the form of atmospheric tension, Louis is gone and Zayn’s curled up on Liam’s lap on the love seat in the living room, while Niall shares the couch with Harry. He stayed at their flat even after Louis went out because hanging with them like this is proving to be a nice distraction from the nagging in the back of his mind like the tick of a second hand on an analog clock: Louis. Date. Ashton. Date. Louis. Gone. Date. Date. Date.

A blunt’s being passed around and Niall brought the booze as usual. They’re only halfway paying attention to reruns of Guy Code on tv, but there’s a lot of talking and laughter between them and it’s nice to just chill with friends he doesn’t have to fight the urge to kiss and cuddle incessantly.

“I like this show, but Girl Code is actually way better.” Harry says, earning a collective nod of agreement.

“I’d stick it to the blonde one good.” Niall says, chugging down the last of the beer in his hand. He’s already on his fifth, and he gets dirty when he drinks.

“She’s alright. I like the red head with the tattoos.” Harry says. “She’s funny.”

“D’ya think she dyes the carpets to match the drapes?” Niall wonders. “Be a bit weird, but I could see it. She seems like a freak.”

“Who’d actually want to be a fire crotch that badly, though?” Zayn asks on exhale, passing it up to Liam.

“S’at really a thing?” Niall wonders. “Never had a natural red head before.”

“Oh yeah, it’s a thing.” Harry confirms.

“Nice.” Niall hisses in approval.

They settle into a comfortable silence again, but it’s bad because the segment on is about first dates, of fucking course. The pot isn’t working like it usually does; instead of mellowing him out, it’s only making him more anxious because it’s getting late but Louis isn’t home yet and that must mean it’s going well and that’s not something Harry was prepared for.

“Do you guys think Louis likes me?” He blurts during a commercial break. “Like, as more than just a friend.”

Three heads turn to face him, each bearing two pairs of eyes widened incredulously.

“You mean you don’t know?” Zayn asks.

“Know what?” Harry is clueless.

“He’s—”

“Zayn!” Liam elbows him in the ribs. He tries to whisper into his boyfriend’s ear, but he’s high enough that his volume control is dumbly underestimated and Harry catches every word. “If Louis hasn’t told him yet, then it’s not our right to.”

“What hasn’t he told me?” Harry demands. It could be that Louis does actually like him, but he refuses to get his hopes up because it could just as easily be some big, life-changing reason as to why he doesn’t. The secret behind all his little sad patches, maybe.

“You should ask him out.” Niall suggests. “Or like, tell him how you feel, or whatever. Do something.”

“I didn’t say I like him.” Harry automatically refutes. Force of habit.

“You don’t have to.” Niall shrugs. “At least not to us, but he should know.”

“But what if he doesn’t… I mean, if things don’t… what if it ruins everything? I can’t.” He hates himself for acting this way. He’s not this person, he doesn’t waste time worrying so much about things that may never happen, doesn’t usually let things get to him like this. But Louis has always made him feel a million other things he’s not used to, too, like butterflies from light touches and greediness from gentle kisses and comfort in golden sunshine skin. He just doesn’t know how to handle himself when it comes to all the mysteries hidden behind those cloudy blue eyes because Louis really is _everything_ and he can’t risk losing that.

“Here’s a question, why aren’t you two together already anyway?” Zayn wonders. “Like, we all thought it was gonna happen, but it’s been a while and you’re still doing this weird ‘we’re just friends’ thing. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know.” Harry groans. “It’s not that easy.”

“It is though.” Liam urges. “Just be honest with each other.”

“It’s not that easy _for me_.” Harry corrects. “I’m good at sex. I’m not good at feelings.”

“Neither is Louis.” Niall says, and Zayn and Liam nod along.

He wants to rip his hair out at the roots because they’re right, Louis hates talking about feelings. He shuts down completely whenever they come up, he shows them but never addresses them; like when Harry can tell he’s in a shit mood because he’s acting all stiff and distant but all he ever says about it is “I’m fine”.

So it’s clear that if this is going to go anywhere, he needs to be the one to grow a pair and just tell him. He tests it out in his head: _Louis, I like you so much, I’ve liked you since the first day we met and you were just a pouty little hedgehog that I was determined to learn how to make smile. I think I might even be in love with you, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything like this and I’m so fucking scared and I just need you to tell me it’ll be okay…_

He’s already sounding dumb and tripping over his words and rambling on and this is all just an imaginary confession. He shudders to think what it would sound like out loud.

“Do you guys like me?” He wonders next, needing another distraction.

“‘Course, man. You’re chill.” Niall says immediately.

“Eh, you’re alright.” Liam shrugs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips that gives away his teasing.

“You’re kinda weird and you smell funny.” Zayn chips in.

“I smell like flowers.” Harry objects.

“Yeah. I was never much into that whole cutesy, girly thing.” Zayn makes a show of settling more into Liam’s lap and patting his knee, because if anything’s a perfect example of the truth behind that statement it’s tall, scruffy, muscled Liam.

“But didn’t you have a crush on Louis in tenth grade, when he was even cuter and more feminine than he is now?” Harry contradicts, loving the way Zayn’s jaw falls open and his face reddens with guilt.

“Shit,” Niall starts laughing, “That’s right mate, you totally did! Almost forgot about that.”

“He fucking told you that?” Zayn fumes. “I’ll rip his throat out.”

Liam laughs too, but affectionately cards his fingers through Zayn’s dark quiff. “No matter. He’s over that type now, I can certainly vouch for it.”

“Oh, we all can.” Niall quips, taking another sip of his beer. “You guys don’t make much effort to hide it.”

“You are pretty loud, you know.” Harry agrees. “Our room is right next to yours.” And since when did he start calling it _our room_ anyways?

“We’re into exhibitionism.” Zayn smirks.

“No fuckin’ way.” Niall says at the same time Harry offers, “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Harry!” Liam scolds. “We’re perfectly fine with making everyone listen through the walls. I don’t think wanking to Louis’ best mates will do much to help your chances with him.”

“You’re right.” Harry agrees. “Maybe someday if he and I do end up together, we can all watch each other.”

“Now that’s not a bad idea.” Zayn says.

“The fuck, guys? This is not an image I need in my head.” Niall complains, chugging the last of his what’s in his bottle for emphasis.

“Oh, you can openly talk about bright red vaginas in front of us, but we can’t discuss our sex lives in front of you? That’s blatant homophobia, Niall, I’m appalled.” Liam jokes.

“Please.” Niall scoffs. “I don’t care if you were two straight couples, or even lesbians or what the fuck ever. I don’t want to hear about orgies unless I’m included.”

“Do you want to be included?” Harry politely extends the invitation.

“That is definitely not even remotely close to what I meant.” He declines, and they all have a laugh at that.

Harry’s been sipping beers all night too, so naturally, he has to use the toilet eventually. He excuses himself and spends an extra long time in the bathroom because he’d got to thinking about Louis again and the clock keeps ticking but he’s still not back yet and fuck, what if he doesn’t come home tonight at all?

He suddenly feels sick, and it’s not from the alcohol. It’s the thought of Louis in bed with Ashton, who he doesn’t even know and has no idea what he looks like, but it doesn’t matter because in his vision it’s just hands all over Louis’ skin. Foreign fingers and lips knowing his curves; the arch of his back, the dip of his collar bones, his soft little tummy, his well-padded bum and deliciously thick thighs and nice fat cock. Someone else earning all his soft little moans and whimpers and god, Harry feels his stomach lurch again.

He opens the medicine cabinet over the sink, searching for some Pepto Bismol or anything to settle this feeling, but there’s nothing. Plenty of things for headaches and the common cold, but nothing for stomach aches. There’s some prescription bottles too, and he’s sure those won’t help at all but he’s curious and maybe another distraction will work just as well.

Xanax doubles as a party drug, so he instantly recognizes even the technical name and knows it’s for anxiety and panic attacks. The other two bottles are not as easily identified, but they sound familiar and a quick Google search on his phone tells him the nearly empty one is Zoloft and the other unopened one is Lexapro, both commonly used to treat depression and anxiety. All three are prescribed to Tomlinson, Louis W.

He just stares at them for a long moment, blinking dramatically, trying to wrap his fuzzy head around the concept and what it means. It takes a full five minutes for it to finally register and he can practically feel the light bulb go on in his brain with the realization.

_Louis has depression._

It suddenly makes so much sense. His irritable moods, his constant ups and downs, the way he sometimes seems really absent in his head even when he’s physically there.

Even the little details like how he has absolutely zero confidence in himself, his side of the room is always a mess and he sometimes just lays around for days; he’s probably got no motivation to clean or even leave his bed. It took him forever to start seriously looking for a new job and the whole reason he lost his old one in the first place is because he never bothered showing up, and isn’t that the same reason he decided to quit school, too?

It all adds up. He feels like such an idiot for not realizing sooner, but this must be what Louis has been hiding all along. Why would he feel the need to do that, though? It’s not like the subject has never come up. Harry’s always trying to lift his spirits on bad days. Louis’ had plenty of opportunities to admit to it, but he chooses not to tell, even though they’re supposed to be so close.

He feels dizzy, has to lean against the counter to keep from falling over because it’s like someone’s just punched a hole right through him and the lack of mass has upset his equilibrium. He wishes Louis were here right now so he could hug him closer than he ever has, whisper into his ear how sorry he is, how he wishes there was something he could do to make it better. He’d find a way to stop the earth from spinning if that’s what it took.

He knows there’s something motherly inside of him. After his dad left, he had to do a bit of growing up to become the new man of the house. He’s glad for that at least, it’s a good trait of his, he thinks. He takes care of his mum and his sister because it’s just ingrained in his bones to look after the people he cares about. To protect them, and to fix things. He always wants to fix things, take care of people, make everyone’s life easier. It’s a physical ache that he can’t do anything for Louis.

Louis, the pretty angel with the crinkly eyed smile who brings him so much joy every day, and he can’t even return the favor.

-/-

Louis and Ashton ended up getting to the movies early enough to breeze through the line at the concession stand, have their pick of the seats in the theater, and they’ve still got a good bit of time until the previews start.

“So now that you’ve been there longer, how do you like your new job?” Ashton asks, leaning back and propping his legs up on the row in front of them. “Did I hook you up or what?”

Louis chuckles. “You hooked me up, alright. Best job I’ve ever had, honestly. It’s actually _fun_.”

“Right? Great company, cute girls, free yogurt. S’a pretty sweet deal.” Ashton agrees.

“I’m still deciding if that last one is a good thing or not though. I can feel my thighs expanding after every shift.” Louis complains.

“Shut up, you’re hot.” Ashton counters.

“My ass is getting big enough to have its own orbit.”

“I’ll say.” Ashton nods, and Louis drops his jaw, offended.

“You’re not supposed to agree!” He wails.

“It’s a good thing!” Ashton assures him. “You realize people pay big money to get a bum like that?”

“They do not. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m dead serious, you can have surgery to increase the size of it.” He throws a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s different from breast implants though, they like inject you with this wicked mixture of something and bam, you’re three sizes bigger. Just like the Grinch.”

“How do you know this? Have you been looking into getting it done yourself?” Louis teases.

“Why, do you think I need it?” Ashton grins.

“Nah, you’re good.” Says Louis, already knowing full well how true it is.

“Thanks.” Ashton says, and then, “Really though, my mum had it done a couple years back.”

“Your _mum_?” Louis is shocked.

“Yeah, midlife crisis.” He explains, shrugging. “She got her boobs done too, after I was born. She blames me for ruining them with the pregnancy,” He laughs, “But I think she just likes having an excuse to get work done. She’s also changed her nose and she goes for botox every now and then, but if you bring it up she’ll deny it till she’s in her grave.”

“Sorry if this is weird to ask, but how is your family not bankrupt? Isn’t plastic surgery pretty pricey?”

“S’no problem. My parents are kind of loaded.” He says.

Ashton may have picked him up in a spotless, shiny red convertible, but the kid dresses and acts just like any average young adult would, and this is the first Louis’ ever heard about him having money. Obviously he’s not big on bragging about it, which is quite endearing, since most rich people aren’t usually secretive about it in the slightest, let alone cool enough to stoop down to the level of mingling with commoners.

“Why do you work then?” Louis wonders. If he came from a wealthy family with the luxury of just lying around doing nothing all day, he’d definitely take advantage of it.

“I said _my parents_ are loaded.” He emphasizes. “ _I’m_ a broke almost-uni student.”

“They don’t help you out at all?”

“Sure, they’re paying for school and letting me live at home and stuff, but even when I was little they never spoiled me. They wanted me to grow up learning the value of money and all that.”

“Well that’s bullshit.” Louis huffs.

Ashton laughs. “Nah, I’m glad they raised me that way. Otherwise I could’ve easily been a prissy little bitch, and I don’t even want to imagine my life like that. I like it just the way it is.”

He admires that. No matter how smoothly his life is going, he’s never satisfied with it. It’s ridiculous and frustrating, but he can always find something that’s not good enough for him.

Ashton asks about his family next so Louis tells him all about his mum and sisters, and he’s sure he’s mentioned his friends before but they really are like an extension of family to him, so he talks about them too; how Niall is always happy and cracking jokes, how Zayn gives everyone a hard time but it’s just how you know you’re important to him, how Liam is so nice and caring and good-natured that he reminds everyone of a puppy, and then he gets to talking about Harry again and part of him is wondering why Harry is associated with family anyway, because the way Louis feels about him is nothing like the way he feels about the others, but it seemed wrong not include him when he was already talking about the people closest to him.

Ashton doesn’t seem to mind, nodding and smiling along and asking questions at appropriate times and by the time Louis’ done talking his ears off, the theater is nearly full, the lights are dimming and the movie’s about to start.

“So, have you decided if this is a date or not yet?” Ashton whispers, staring over at Louis with big doe eyes as the “silence your phones” warning takes over the screen.

Louis hesitates for a moment. They’re at the movies, the mood is light but intimate, they’ve been getting to know each other better, Ashton paid for the tickets (though Louis paid for the snacks), and he’s actually having a pretty good time. It feels like a date.

“Yeah. I guess it is.” He decides then, smiling. He ignores Harry’s face flashing in his mind, tries not to wonder what he would think or what he’s even doing without him around tonight.

Ashton’s cheeks dimple with his soft but genuine smile. “Does that mean I can hold your hand then?”

“Oh Ash, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Don’t you think we’re moving a little too fast?” Louis teases, biting his bottom lip like an innocent schoolgirl for added effect.

“Shut up,” Ashton laughs, pushing against his shoulder. Someone shushes them from behind as the first preview starts and they share a soft giggle at that, then Ashton reaches for his hand and interlocks their fingers and it’s safe and warm and comfortable, just like he is. About halfway through the film, Louis leans his head on Ashton’s side and by the end of it, Ashton’s arm is heavily draped around his shoulders and they’re forced to unwind from a proper cuddle when the movie lets out.

It’s a classic Pixar tale; they laugh at some parts and tear up at others and form attachments to all the characters and leave the theater feeling like the ridiculously overpriced tickets were worth it.

It’s just past midnight and Louis is thinking about how great of a time he’s having, even though they didn’t really get to talk much once the movie started. He doesn’t know if Harry’s waiting for him at home or not, and he’s not even sure if he wants him to be because Ashton is cute and fun and likes him and it’s easy, whereas with Harry it’s all mixed signals and sad pining. Being with Ashton feels like waking up refreshed and ready after a long night’s sleep, while being with Harry is like that tired and disoriented feeling after taking a short, midday nap.

“I don’t want this to end yet.” He admits when they’re alone in the car, and Ashton chuckles.

“When I asked you out, you weren’t even sure you wanted to come, and now you don’t want to leave?”

“What can I say? You won me over.” He grins.

“Wanna grab something to eat, then?” Ashton suggests, and Louis nods eagerly.

They make up their minds to try something new, so they stop at the first place they come along that isn’t a fast food chain.

It happens to be a tiny 60’s diner complete with a jukebox that they spend a ridiculous amount of quarters on to make sure there’s nothing but The Beatles playing the whole time they’re there. They order burgers and fries and pints and listen to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” on repeat and sing along with mouths full of food until the servers are giving them death glares and one of them threatens “if you play that fucking song one more time, you’re banned from this place for life”. So Louis puts another quarter in the slot, presses play again and the two of them quickly dash out (thank god they already paid their bill) before the staff can have their heads on a platter.

They’re both laughing so hard they have to take a moment to catch their breath once they’re back in the car.

“That was fun.” Louis wipes an actual tear from his eye. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks. You are too.” Ashton flashes his perfect smile and his perfect dimples and everything is perfect.

It’s 2 am now and definitely time to go home. They both have work in the morning, and Louis’ exhausted anyways. He’s got a full belly and a happy heart and now all he wants is a nice warm bed and a good night’s sleep. Ashton probably feels the same, cause they’re both quiet in the car and Louis sort of drifts off on the ride home.

When they pull to a stop outside of his building, he yawns and stretches himself back to alertness.

“D’you want me to walk you to your door?” Ashton offers.

“Nah, I think I’ll make it on my own.” Says Louis. “Thanks, though. Tonight was… really nice.”

“Yeah.” Ashton smiles, and then after a pause he asks, “Does that mean there’s gonna be more of this, then?”

“If you want.” Louis permits.

“Definitely.”

“Okay.” He beams, genuinely looking forward to it. “Well, for now, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” Ashton nods.

Louis opens the door and he’s only got one foot out of the car when Ashton calls, “wait” and there’s a tug on his shoulder and the next thing he knows, Ashton’s lips are on his. His eyes shoot open in surprise, because even with how well the date went he really wasn’t expecting it, but it’s nice and soft and gentle and he melts right into kissing him back.

Until he thinks of Harry and how kissing him is so much more; even when it’s slow like this, it’s still heat and hunger and passion and greed and there’s none of that with Ashton. He’s a good kisser, but Harry is a better one. He’s cute, but Harry is cuter. He’s nice, but Harry is nicer. He’s fun, but Harry is funner. And that isn’t even a word and it doesn’t make sense anyway because he shouldn’t be thinking about fluffy curls and strawberry lips right now but Harry is just there in his mind, he’s always fucking there.

Louis pulls away too quickly and looks down so he doesn’t have to face the wounded eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry, was that too much?” Ashton frets. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have. I was debating cause I wasn’t sure, but you’re so cute and I like you a lot and you said tonight was fun, and I had fun too and like, so I just thought… fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t.” Louis hides his face. “It’s not your fault. Tonight _was_ great, really, I just…” _Can’t feel the same way about you as you do about me, because I’m hopelessly head over heels for my best friend who doesn’t want me back._ “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t leave time for any more questions, just climbs out of the car and slams the door shut, speed walking his way up to his flat. He feels so small and stupid for rejecting Ashton and running out on him without a real explanation, but he just panicked and had to get out as quick as possible.

Why can’t he just enjoy Ashton’s company and let it naturally progress from there, and why can’t he just be happy with Harry’s friendship instead of wasting everyone’s time and sabotaging his own life by wishing they could be more? Why can’t he just enjoy _anything_ without thinking himself into anguish?

He wobbles into his room to find that long, familiar body already snoozing under the blankets. Maybe he should be pissed off because Harry is the whole reason he fucked up with Ashton and probably none of his dates will ever end well again, at least not with this stupid boy still around doing stupid things like staying the night at his house and sleeping half-naked by his side all the time.

But all he feels is relief and happiness, mixed with sadness, over the fact that he _is_ so happy and relieved to find Harry there. It’s such a complicated emotion that he doesn’t even have the energy left to address it tonight. All he knows is that he wants to be wrapped in those arms and cuddled against all that beautiful, bare skin. So he just flops down belly first onto the mattress and the jolt makes Harry stir next to him.

“Louis?” He asks, voice soft and groggy and sweet.

“Who else would it be? You’re in my bed.”

“Yeah,” Harry attempts to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s late.” He notices.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

“How’d it go?”

“It was fine.”

He should’ve known better than to be so honest, because that’s the word that always tips Harry off to his bad moods.

“Just fine?” He wonders. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m a little drunk.” He says as an excuse.

Harry just chuckles lightly and reaches out to pull him in for cuddles. His arms secure around him, warm and safe, and Louis cuddles into his chest and breathes in his sugary scent and this is exactly what he wanted, yet somehow not at all, because even though they’re so physically close right now, there may as well be an entire ocean between them.

He doesn’t want to get over Harry or find someone else, he just wants this; Harry’s arms and his chest and his warmth and the steady beats of his heart next to his ear every night because with Ashton it was nice, but this is calm and exciting all at once, it’s butterflies and rapids and comfort and home.

He shifts a little in Harry’s arms, adjusting to be able to kiss the sparrows on his chest. His lips find the tips of their wings and he kisses each of them gently. Once he has the taste of Harry’s skin he only wants more, so he keeps kissing, all along his collar bones and into the crook of his neck and Harry lets out a soft little moan that sparks the flame of desire.

Their lips gravitate quickly to each other’s and it’s like a key turning in the ignition. His whole body revs to life with it and even that’s not enough, suddenly he feels like the whole night was wasted. He should’ve been here with Harry, because it’s all he ever really wants and it feels so right, like being with Ashton was some weird, out-of-body experience he didn’t even realize he was having until he got right back here where he belongs. He wants Harry’s hands and lips and everything all over him, a chemical bath peeling away all the layers of himself tainted with residue from alien touches.

He deepens the kiss, licking into Harry’s mouth with fervor, pouring all of himself in it. He slides his leg in between Harry’s and ruts against him, needy and aggressive, practically begging for it, but he’s only met with a protesting moan sent deep into his mouth.

“Louis,” Harry says, breathless as he tears their lips apart. He holds him at a distance and it’s dark but Louis can feel his gaze boring back into his own confused eyes.

“Can we just… lay here for a while?” Harry asks, reaching up to brush some of the hair off his forehead. “Like this. It’s nice.”

“You mean you don’t want to fuck me?” Louis is hurt and dejected; he can hardly think straight from all the feelings raging around inside him tonight.

“You know I do, but not tonight.” Harry’s voice is just above a whisper and Louis can’t be imagining how heavy and broken it sounds. “I just want to hold you.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. Harry _always_ wants to have sex, and now that Louis finally wants it too, he’s getting turned down and it’s a crushing blow right to the center of his soul. He figures it must have taken him too long to come around. Harry is officially tired of waiting, tired of putting up with him in general. He’s instantly sure that when he wakes up tomorrow, Harry’s going to be gone and he’ll never hear from him again.

“Is that okay?” Harry interrupts his worrying, lifting his chin up to look him in the eyes.

Louis just buries his face in his chest. He can’t help but let go of a few tears, because Harry is everything to him at this point and he’s not ready to let go of that. A few quickly turns into a few more, and so on until he’s full on sobbing against his skin and Harry is just _there_ ; petting his hair and kissing the top of his head and letting him carry on like a fucking newborn baby.

He has no idea how long it takes him to calm down, but Harry is still awake when he finally does.

“You alright now?” He checks, and Louis just whines a little. He feels pathetic and useless and he just keeps wondering why Harry is still here, why he hasn’t yet run away from the ugly mess he’s let himself turn into.

“I’m sorry about whatever happened. You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’m sorry.”

It’s ironic that the reason for his tears is usually the same reason for his smiles, too. There’s nothing Harry can to do help if he doesn’t know why Louis’ so upset and telling him is absolutely out of the question, but at least he’s here for now, and he cares. He does.

“It’s okay.” Louis sighs. If he wasn’t already exhausted before, the crying definitely took it out of him. All he wants now is to sleep for days.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He says, voice sounding quiet and drained.

“I’m glad _you’re_ here.” Harry kisses him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you apologize for leaving long comments, but i actually adore those the most of all! please do share all your thoughts and feelings with me, i love it. and thank you again for reading and replying :)


	10. Don't waste your time on me

Louis’ alarm wakes him the next morning and his eyes flutter open to an empty bed. His heart drops even though he was expecting it, but it’s so much worse when he’s actually in the moment. Harry is gone and he can feel the tears stinging his eyes again, thinking that’s it, it’s over, he really has left for good.

Then he catches the smell of bacon and hears laughter from outside his room, so he sits up, rubs his eyes clear of sleep, and notices Niall’s bed is also empty. None of his friends do much cooking either, so unless Niall has brought a girl over who can, it must be Harry.

With the blanket still wrapped around him like a cloak, covering his head but leaving his face exposed, he drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen where, sure enough, Harry is in front of the stove frying up bacon and eggs and Niall’s at the table with a plate bearing a tower of waffles.

“Morning, Lou!” They greet in unison, big cheery grins plastered on their faces.

“Morning,” Louis manages a tiny smile. He’s glad to see Harry still here, all sunshine and happiness as usual. “Harry, you made bacon?”

“Can we not make it a big production every time I cook meat?” Harry fusses, lifting some sizzling strips out of the pan and onto a folded paper towel to soak up the oil. “Yes, I did. And I made eggs and waffles too, so shut up and sit down and eat your breakfast.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Louis complies, wedging himself onto the chair next to Niall’s. He lets the blanket fall down around his feet and he’s sure he’s left with a massive case of bedhead from it, but he can’t be bothered to care when there’s a near buffet of food staring him in the face.

“This one’s a keeper.” Niall approves through a mouthful. “This is great. I didn’t even know we had a waffle iron.”

“Neither did I.” Louis seconds, forking a couple onto his plate and drenching them with syrup.

“It’s been sitting right there on the counter forever.” Harry says, joining them at the table with the plate of bacon and a gallon of orange juice. “Since the first time I came over, I noticed it.”

“I thought that was a mini grill. One of those George Foreman things.” Niall shrugs.

“It pains me how hopeless you guys are in the kitchen.” Harry groans.

“Your mum and sister would disagree.” Louis says proudly.

“Why’s that?” Niall wonders.

“Louis cooked the steak for dinner at mine a couple weeks ago.”

“You got Louis to cook something? _And_ you’re still alive to tell the tale?” Niall’s jaw hangs open in awe.

“Shut up, I did a good job.” Louis pouts.

“Yes, you were excellent.” Harry agrees, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead.

Niall’s already three waffles in and he gives up after his fourth, cleaning his plate and excusing himself to the living room right away to give them some alone time. Louis has always liked that about him, how he just seems to know what people need and how he’s always more than happy to oblige.

“You sleep alright last night?” Harry asks around a mouth full of waffle.

“Fine.” Louis says, and Harry raises his eyebrows just enough to let Louis know he knows what that means. “I had a good time, you know, on my date.” He adds for a subject change.

“Did you?” Harry doesn’t look at him as he takes a sip of his juice. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Yeah, we went to the movies and then out to eat and it was nice. Ashton’s fun. I like him.” Louis isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince Harry or himself at this point, but it is true in some way, nonetheless.

“What’d you see?” Harry asks, still avoiding eye contact.

“Monster’s University. It was good. Have you seen it yet?”

“Nope.” Harry says to his eggs.

“Well, it’s definitely a classic.” Louis continues. “We should go sometime. I don’t mind seeing it again.”

“I’m not going to see that with you.” Harry says. His voice is calm but there’s a slight edge behind it that makes Louis feel uneasy, thinking he’s done something wrong and upset him.

“Why not?”

“You saw it on a _date_. It’s like, your thing with him now, or whatever.” Harry explains. “I’ll see it with someone else.”

“You’re being weird.” Louis notices.

“I’m not.” Harry denies. “Asking me to a movie you went to see on a date is weird. I mean, would you take me wherever you guys went to eat, too?”

“Sure.” Louis shrugs. “Well, maybe not. The servers aren’t our biggest fans.” He chuckles, fondly remembering.

“Well, that’s weird. And I wouldn’t go.” Harry maintains. He still hasn’t looked up from his plate the whole time and he’s clearly agitated about something, so Louis just shuts up and eats his own food out of fear of making it worse.

“Did you kiss him?” Harry blurts randomly.

“He kissed me.” Louis says.

“Did you like it?”

He hesitates. He did like it until he thought of kissing Harry had entered his mind and it paled in comparison, but he’d never actually admit that.

“Yeah.” He finally says. “I think I sort of ruined it though. No, I definitely did.”

“How’s that?”

“I, uh, stopped him and ran away?” He drops his fork and hides his face in his hands as the heinous flashback plays in his head. He realizes he has to face at Ashton again at work today, and he’s going to want some answers, and Louis has no idea how he’s going to explain himself without fucking everything up even worse.

He can feel that Harry’s finally looking at him again, eyes boring into the side of his head. A large hand finds his back and starts a gentle, soothing rub.

“Is that what all that was about?” He’s referring to Louis’ outburst of tears last night, another reason for him to be horribly embarrassed. He’s going to glue his hands to his face so he’ll never have to see the light of day again.

He just nods into them, keeping hidden, not even daring to tell the real reason.

“Why’d you do that if you liked it?” Harry wonders.

“I don’t know. I panicked.”

Harry chuckles softly. “You haven’t been on a date in ages.” He recalls, and Louis wishes he were an ostrich so he could bury his whole fucking head underground.

“Haaaaz.” He whines.

Harry just chuckles again. “It’s alright, Lou. You’re overreacting. Did you tell him why you stopped him?”

“No. I just left him in the car and ran up here.”

“That’s bad.” Harry agrees, “But if he’s worth anything, he’ll understand once you explain.” He comforts, still gently stroking his back.

“You think so?” Louis peeks out to see mossy green staring sincerely back.

“Absolutely.”

He lets his hands fall down to his sides again and sighs.

“Feel better?” Harry checks. Louis just nods and they go back to finishing off their meals in distressing silence.

It’s strange because they’re usually not this quiet around each other, or if they are it’s only because they’re both too high and just lost in their heads. Even when that’s the case, they’re normally lying cuddled together among loving touches and contented smiles, none of this stiff weirdness. It feels like their dynamic is all messed up and it sickens him to have to just sit there and bear though it, not knowing what to say or how to fix it. He almost wants to run away from the situation, which obviously has not proven to be the right solution to any problem of his, but he just can’t stand the awkwardness between them.

“So, are you gonna keep seeing him then?” Harry wonders, breaking the silence again. “I mean, do you want to?”

Part of him wants to scream _no, I don’t want this and I don’t want him, I just want you, why can’t you see it? Why don’t you want me too?_ But the better part of him just says “Yeah” and watches the way Harry nods at his plate.

“Is he a better kisser than me?” Harry looks up at him and smirks, and he can’t help but return it, glad to have him back to playful joking at least for the moment.

“Of course not, Princess Harold, you’re the best at everything you do.” He patronizes, rather than seriously admitting the truth.

“Good answer.” Harry approves, grinning his dimples to life.

\--

Louis is greeted at work that morning with a unison of “Hiiii”s, Ashton included, shiny smile and all.

“So, Louis, how was your night?” Calum asks casually, and three sets of expectant eyes settle on him. Ashton’s looking towards him too, but his smile has turned small and smug, like he already knows the answer. Which he does.

“It was pretty great.” Louis admits, turning his eyes down as a shy smile spreads and the blush deepens his cheeks. The other guys squeal like little schoolgirls.

“You two are just adorable!” Michael throws an arm around each of their shoulders, looking back and forth between them.

“When’s the wedding?” Luke teases.

“Do we get a sneak preview?” Calum puckers his lips at them and Louis rolls his eyes, even though his stomach twists at the remembrance of the awful kiss that still needs to be addressed.

Ashton gladly pushes Michael out of the way and leans over to peck Louis on the cheek and the three of them erupt again, clapping and whistling and making smoochy faces at each other. Louis’ smile is slight but adoring at the bunch of absolute children he works with, and his face burns in a good way, right where Ashton’s lips touched.

The day passes quickly; it’s super busy and they barely have time to fool around like usual. Business slows when the sun starts to set, and Luke and Calum are off first so they blow a few kisses as they make their exit and then it’s just Ashton and Michael left with Louis. The two of them are discussing the lyrics to some song the other boys were apparently working on all night, so Louis just leans on the counter and picks at the strawberries, trying to resist the cheesecake bits he knows he really wants.

And then suddenly, Harry walks in and Louis lights up and sort of panics all at once; happy to see him, but not at all liking the idea of him and Ashton together in the same place, especially considering how weird Harry’s been acting about it all. What if Louis’ feelings for him are obvious, or worse, if the two of them don’t get along with each other?

“Hey, Harry!” Louis tries to play it cool, but he is genuinely surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to get some froyo, obviously.” Harry strolls over to the counter to plant a kiss on Louis’ head, carding his fingers through his hair after. “And I missed you. It’s been a busy day and I just couldn’t wait for you to get home, so I thought I’d visit you here instead.”

“Were you at the flower shop today?” Louis asks, noticing the fresh blue and yellow pansies in his curls.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people get married at the end of summer. We had to do like six weddings just today alone.” He says, wiping some imaginary sweat off his forehead.

“Harry?” Michael looks up from the napkin they’re scribbling notes onto. “Harry _Styles_?”

Louis wants to shoot himself in the face because just when he thought he’d made some friends of his own, of fucking course Harry already knows one of them. If that’s the case, he wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’ve slept together before and that’s a can of worms he’s not even going to bother opening right now.

Harry just blinks at him. “Sorry, I don’t, uh… who are you?”

“It’s Mikey! From school? Freshman year? Well, my freshman year. You were a sophomore before you left.”

“Shit, Mikey, oh my god! I didn’t even recognize you with your hair like that. Aren’t you a brunette?”

“When I feel like it.” Michael shrugs, and he and Ashton have a laugh at that.

“Small world.” Louis grumbles, cramming his mouth full of cheesecake now.

“God, I haven’t seen you in ages, man, what’s up? How’ve you been?” Harry asks, and the two of them jump right into conversation, catching up and chatting about people Louis doesn’t know and has no interest in hearing about. He busies himself by fixing a cup of yogurt and piling it high with toppings to keep his mouth full so he doesn’t say anything stupid like _hey Haz, you came to see me, remember?_ Or _hey Mikey, how about you back the fuck off, he’s mine now_.

Ashton, having gone to a different school back home in Australia, is equally left out so he joins Louis behind the counter.

“The next time you want to complain about having a big bum, just remember this moment.” He teases, eyeing Louis’ mound of candy. “You do it to yourself.”

“I know.” Louis whines. “It’s just so good. I can’t help it. I’m terrible.”

“You’ll get sick of it after a few months.” Ashton says. “Or at least cut down a bit. Eating the same thing all the time gets a bit dull.”

“I fuckin’ hope so.” Louis says around a mouthful.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence between them, and Louis is not about to have that happen with both of his closest friends right now. He knows he has to explain what happened with the kiss if they’re to ever get past it, so he swallows the bite in his mouth and rips the bandage off before he can think about it.

“So, about last night…”

“It’s cool,” Ashton interrupts. “I get it.”

“You do?” Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You’re not the kiss on the first date type. That’s fine.” Ashton assumes. It takes Louis a moment to realize they’re totally not on the same page at all because Ashton doesn’t know how he feels about Harry. He thinks this is strictly between them, and Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise and maybe he also sort of doesn’t want to.

When it’s just him and Harry, it’s clear that he’s it and nothing will ever be better than spending the night cuddled in his arms, but when Ashton is right there, it’s so easy for his heart to stray. He does like Ashton, and nothing has changed between him and Harry overnight except maybe that they’re drifting even further apart, so it’s right back to square one which is that he needs to get over it and Ashton is cute and willing so why not try with him?

“Yeah. Sorry.” He fibs, apology much needed either way.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“I shouldn’t have just run away without an explanation.”

“True, but I forgive you.” Ashton smiles.

“You’re too good to me.” Louis swoons.

“I know, how’d you ever get so lucky?” Ashton makes a playful, scrunched nose face at him. Louis sticks his tongue out in response and Ashton grabs it between two fingers so Louis bites him and he recoils and they both burst into laughter.

He catches a glimpse of Harry out of his peripheral vision and feels him blatantly staring at the two of them. When he looks over, Harry is back to casually chatting with Michael. He’s leaning into his words and Louis notices his hand resting on Michael’s knee and has to restrain himself from throwing something in their direction to break them up.

“Are you free tonight?” He asks Ashton instead, turning away from the scene.

“Um, actually no, I’ve got band practice. Can’t really miss it, we gotta make sure everything’s perfect for the party next weekend.”

Louis had completely forgotten until now, but a couple weeks ago Ashton did mention something about a pool party at his house, a sort of last summer hurrah before the temperatures drop and the leaves start changing.

“You’re still coming, yeah? Kristen’s closing the place for the day so all of us will be free, but if you made other plans…”

“No, I didn’t.” He says quickly. “I’ll be there.”

“Cool. You can come to practice too, if you want?” Ashton offers.

“What am I, a seventeen year old Asian girl?”

Ashton laughs. “Not even close, but I’m no Scott Pilgrim on bass either. Drums are my forte.”

“That’s… pretty hot.” His eyes linger on Ashton’s biceps, finally clicking that must be where he gets them from. His tongue involuntarily flicks out over his bottom lip, imagining them in action, flexed and dripping in sweat as they flail around and pound out beats while Ashton lives through the music.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Ashton smirks.

“Yes what?” Louis is distracted.

“You’ll come to practice?” He snaps his fingers a couple times to bring Louis back to attention. “Earth to Lou.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Absolutely what?” Harry interrupts, sticking his head over the counter to peer at all the toppings.

“Nothing.” Louis says immediately, as if he’s guilty of something and Harry’s just caught him in the act. “Ashton was just inviting me to watch thier band practice later on.”

“Hey, great idea! Harry, you should come too.” Michael chirps, preparing his order.

“No thanks.” Harry’s response is almost too quick. “I’ve got dinner with the family. Lou, they ask about you, ya know. You should join us again sometime soon.”

“Sure, of course. Another night.” Louis nods half-heartedly. He does want to, but the truth is things just aren’t that easy between him and Harry right now, and the idea of sitting around a table with his family if he’s going to be all distant and withdrawn isn’t the most appealing.

“Sorry, we haven’t properly met yet.” Ashton extends his hand for Harry to shake. “I’m Ashton.”

“Harry.” He’s polite of course, taking Ashton’s hand and smiling all the way, but something about it is off. It doesn’t feel like a genuine Harry smile. And it’s weird for Louis to watch them interact; two different parts of his life trying and failing to fit together, like the negatively charged ends of magnets.

“Great to finally put a face to the name, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Says Ashton.

“That’s funny, I haven’t heard anything about you.” Harry watches Michael carefully, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

“Harry.” Louis scolds. “I talk about him all the time.”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell.” Harry shrugs, paying for his order and shoving his mouth full with a bite of yogurt. Ashton kind of squirms, looking back and forth between the two of them as Louis glares at the head of curls.

“I’m kidding, mate. It was a joke.” Harry finally says, meeting the contempt in Louis’ eyes, before finally acknowledging Ashton again. “Of course I know who you are. He never shuts up about you.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Louis is stern.

“Yes it was, I’m hilarious.” Harry argues.

“You’re being weird again.” Louis accuses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He leans over to plant another kiss on Louis’ forehead, and Louis catches a glimpse of Ashton raising his eyebrows at the gesture. “I’ll see you later.” Harry says, giving a collective wave as he strides out of the shop.

\--

“Band practice” is almost exactly the same as working with the four of them at once, except they’ve got instruments to actually play the notes they come up with and there’s no customers interrupting at regular intervals. They run through a few songs that they already seem to have down pat, shoot off some lyric and sound ideas for new songs back and forth, and of course there’s plenty of laughter and goofing off between them. Louis sits on the couch and participates in a lot of the banter, but mostly he’s just watching them feed off each other’s energy, and salivating over a sweaty Ashton as he keeps the music alive with his drumming.

At one point, they all switch instruments just for the hell of it, and Ashton looks awkward with a guitar hanging on his shoulders. His hair keeps falling in his eyes as he stares down at the strings, attempting to play the notes he _knows_ , but they keep coming out horrendous when he tries to hit them. Calum has no idea what he’s doing with a drum set either, Luke is a terrible bassist, and Michael ended up being the odd one out of the switch, so he has no problem playing Luke’s guitar instead of his own. They still sound awful though, and they all have a good laugh at that before happily switching back with a new appreciation for everyone’s role in the group.

“Lou, can you play anything?” Luke wonders randomly.

“Me? No. I play the laptop keyboard.” He offers, earning a low chuckle.

“He’s a singer, I bet. He looks like it.” Michael says, and they all nod along.

“I’m alright.” Louis shrugs.

Luke moves away from the mic and waves him over. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“No way. No. I’m comfortable right here, thanks.”

“Come onnnn!” They all whine.

“No judgment. We just wanna hear your sound.” Calum coerces.

“It’s not… you guys are a little harsh for my voice. It’s like, soft and girly and gentle.” He flushes. “And I don’t even know the words to any of your music.” He’s picked up a few lines here and there already, but definitely not enough to sing a whole song.

“We’ll play something you know.” Calum reaches over and grabs him by the wrist, pulls him up and forces him in front of the mic stand.

“No no no no no.” Louis objects, shaking his head. He tries to run back to his seat, but Michael just pulls him back to his place.

“You’ve got no choice now. They’ll just keep putting you back up front until they get a song out of you.” Ashton laughs. “It’s how they got me to join. I just _mentioned_ I could play the drums one day and the next thing I knew, I was being invited to practices and gigs and they just trapped me.”

“Fine, okay, but before you get any ideas, I am _not_ joining this band.” Louis is firm. “I’ll sing one song, but you’ll have to hold me down and cut off all my limbs before I even consider being a serious member.”

“We’re full anyways.” Michael waves him off. “We’re just curious.”

He gives them all a look and they nod in agreement, and then the opening notes of a Blink 182 song starts and Louis is proud that he actually does know it, only thanks to Harry’s Louis #4 mix.

Calum starts singing the first verse, slow and smooth, and Louis sort of rocks to the beat, but he’s a bit uncomfortable knowing his turn is coming up. He’s never done anything like this before and how do you even carry yourself in a band anyways? He imagines the fictional audience would be very unimpressed with his stance right now, but there’s no time to dwell on it because Calum’s lines finish and then four pairs of eyes are looking at him expectantly as they continue the notes, so he just jumps in, cold and shaky like a kid being thrown into a pool of ice water.

_Where are you? And I’m so sorry_

_I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight_

_I need somebody and always_

_This sick strange darkness_

_Comes creeping on so haunting every time_

His nervousness melts away as soon as his voice fills the air, clear and high; he falls right into it, swaying to the music and loving the way everyone’s smile grows as they watch him. Luke joins in for the next few lines and he has to admit, they do sound magnificent together.

_And as I stared I counted_

_The webs from all the spiders_

_Catching things and eating their insides_

Ashton’s keeping the beat perfectly, Michael’s way too absorbed in his guitar, and Calum joins the two of them and it just keeps getting better.

_Like indecision to call you_

_And hear your voice of treason_

_Will you come home and stop this pain tonight?_

_Stop this pain tonight_

The two of them fade out and let Louis carry the chorus a few times, just staring at him and smiling along and Louis feels so proud he can’t help but let the crinkles reach his eyes as he belts out the lyrics, despite how sad they actually are.

_Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already_

_The voice inside my head_

They all provide the background vocals, Ashton included, and Louis knows this because he’s looking over his shoulder, grinning madly at him as he keeps the beat and dimples right back. Louis falters near the end and gives a little laugh, because he’s so giddy and it feels so good to be singing with an actual band that it’s a bit surreal and kind of hilarious. They all join him and the music dies down before the song really ends, but congratulations are still in order.

“Lou, you’re fantastic!” Luke gives him a hard pat on the back.

“That was so wicked.” Michael gushes. “We never sound that good. You have to join us.”

“You just said you’re all full!” Louis laughs.

“That was before we heard you!” Calum backs them up. “We can make room.”

“Sorry boys, no can do.” Louis waves them off, secretly loving the attention. “That was fun, I’ll admit, but I know you guys. I could never do that in front of a crowd of complete strangers.”

“Well, the offer’s definitely on the table if you ever change your mind.” Luke lifts his guitar up and over his head and the rest of them follow suit, leaving their instruments and filing upstairs for a snack break.

Louis feels a tug on his shirt as he’s ascending with them, and Ashton pulls him back down the steps while the rest of the guys clear out, leaving the two of them alone.

“That was amazing. I didn’t know you could sing.” Ashton plops down on the couch and Louis eagerly takes a seat next to him.

“Thanks.” He beams. “I usually only do it when I’m alone, but I kind of wanted to impress you.”

“Mission accomplished.” Ashton’s dimples spring to life, and this time, Louis doesn’t resist the urge to poke his finger into one of them.

“You’re an incredible drummer, too.” He compliments. “You make it look really hot. I always thought guitarists were more my thing, but wow.”

“Psh, guitarists are overrated.” Ashton scoffs.

“I’ll say.” Louis agrees.

Ashton hesitates for a moment, and then he bravely asks, “Hey, are you, um… I mean, is there something going on… between you and Harry?”

Louis blinks, acting stunned that he would ever think that, despite the fact that fucking everyone else in the world still seems to. “No. We’re just friends. Why?”

“He seemed kinda… I don’t know, possessive over you today. And maybe a little jealous?” Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Louis apologizes on his behalf. “He’s been acting so weird lately. I highly doubt it’s jealousy, but I know he was being pretty rude to you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I just don’t want to get involved if there’s already something there…”

“Strictly platonic, I promise.” Louis lies.

“Good.” Ashton nods down at him, brushing a piece of hair out of Louis’ eyes. He doesn’t seem to realize his own hair is still stuck to the sweat on his forehead, so Louis reaches up and does the same for him, fixing his fringe and playing with it a bit, too.

“I mean, I’m really into you, Lou.” Ashton blurts then. “Like, fuck. I think about you all the time.”

His eyes are wide and fond and this is the first time Louis actually feels really, truly guilty for whatever he’s getting himself into. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this if Ashton is already so invested, but it’s so gratifying to know someone cares about him that way, even if it’s not his first choice.

It’s not like he’s really lying anyways, because there isn’t anything going on between him and Harry except a stupid unrequited crush. He figures there’s no sense in confessing to it if it’s only going to hurt Ashton and ruin his own chances of getting over it, but still, he can’t help the little pang of disgrace as he realizes this isn’t going to end well for either of them. He can’t bring himself to call it quits just yet, though.

“Is it too early to say that?” Ashton frets, noticing his silence.

“No, not at all.” Louis assures, reaching for Ashton’s huge hand to stroke the back of his palm with his comparably tiny thumb. “I really like you, too.” He says softly, and god it’s so nice to be able to just say that without worrying about rejection.

He leans his head on Ashton’s shoulder and Ashton keeps running his fingers through Louis’ hair and they sit like that for a minute, just enjoying each other’s company and listening to the faint laughter of the guys coming from upstairs.

“Does this count as our second date?” Louis wonders, tracing circles into his skin.

“It could.” Ashton says. “Why do you ask?”

“So I can kiss you now.”

“In that case, yes. It definitely does count.”

Louis looks up to meet a pair of eyes so criminally endearing that his heart swells and all the guilt dissolves away at the start of their first real kiss. It’s different this time because now he’s sure he wants it, so there’s no Harry in the back of his mind. It’s just Ashton and Louis and the gentle smack of their lips as their tongues trade mouths and the innocent little kiss deepens into a full on snog.

Louis shifts his weight to lie on Ashton’s chest and his arms wrap around the back of his neck and a hand tangles in his hair and Ashton gasps lightly against his mouth, sucking them back together again in the next instant. His hands rest on either side of Louis’ hips and Louis smiles into it as Ashton’s slowly make their way around to grab at his bum.

“You know, my parents may let us use this room all the time, but it’s still theirs.” Calum announces through a mouth full of food, alerting them to the other guy’s return. “And I really don’t think they’d appreciate you guys fucking on their couch.”

They laugh into each other’s mouths as they break the kiss, breath hot in each other’s faces, and it makes Louis’ spine tingle, being this close to all of Ashton’s over-sized warmth. He reluctantly rolls off, but cuddles in underneath his arm instead.

“More importantly, cute as you guys are together, _we_ really wouldn’t appreciate you guys doing it right in front of us.” Michael adds, setting his drink down on the arm table.

“We were just kissing, calm down, you prudes.” Ashton says, throwing a pillow at Luke’s head.

“Hey! I wasn’t even in this!” Luke whines, dodging out of the way.

“You were the nearest to me.” Ashton shrugs.

“Yet you still missed.” Luke sticks his tongue out.

“Whatever. Sorry Lou, but we’re gonna need to steal your lover away so we can get to work on nailing this song before next week.” Michael plugs his guitar back in and shrugs it over his shoulders, and the rest of the boys ready their instruments, too.

“Take him.” Louis urges. “I’m perfectly fine just watching, as long as nobody makes me sing again.”

“You loved it.” Ashton pokes his side.

“Get!” Louis wiggles out of their embrace, pushing him off the couch and pointing him towards the others.

He leans down for another quick kiss, but that turns into two, and then three, and the other boys end up having to strum their instruments together once, loud and off-key, before Ashton finally breaks away and takes his seat behind his drum set.

For the next couple hours, they play a few more original songs, discussing little parts that can be tweaked and changed and then starting them over again the improved way, cheering and high-fiving all around whenever they completely ace a new play-through. Ashton keeps looking over at him, grinning with those perfect little dimples and Louis can’t help giving his crinkly smile back, thinking how attractive Ashton is drenched in sweat and out of breath and how lucky Louis is to get to kiss all that whenever he wants, now.

When he gets home, Harry is nowhere to be found. He checks his phone, only to find that he doesn’t have any texts or missed calls, which is only a little bit of a bother. He kind of misses the warmth of another body next to him when he falls into bed that night, but he realizes as he drifts off to sleep that he’s not really sure anymore if he’d rather have it be Harry’s or Ashton’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know most of you aren't fans of all the louston fluff, but i'm kind of loving it a lot? it's just so much fun to write ahh i'm sorry i can't help it! i promise you won't be disappointed with the larry in the next chapter though, just bear with me!
> 
> that being said, you guys have been so great to me, really, and honestly i go back and reread your comments a lot to keep me motivated. i love you all so much for every single bit of praise and feedback, it really does mean so much to me and i won't ever be able to thank you enough <3


	11. Just say you love me and I'll say I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank youuuu i love each and every one of you lovely dears for all your enthusiasm and kind words <3
> 
> this chapter is a bit of a roller coaster so strap yourselves in for the ride! smut warning ahead, too. enjoy xx

The next week passes in an exhausting blur of ups and downs. The ups are mostly Ashton related, like band practice with the guys, hushed make-out sessions in the backroom at work during slow lulls, and their actual official second date which consisted of a terribly cliché day at the amusement park, where they got a pass to let them skip to the front of the lines and rode everything at least three times, won each other stupidly over-sized stuffed bears at the game booths, and then dressed them in gift store merch and hijacked one of the tables at work so they could set them up on an eternal date for all the customers to see when they walk in.

The downs are all Harry related, like the fact that he’s not sleeping over anymore and he’s spending most of his free time with Michael (which Louis only knows thanks to the amount of times Michael mentions him, since they haven’t been talking much either). There was even one night when Harry was at his flat hanging out with Zayn and Liam and as soon as Louis came home from work, Harry got up and left, acting like he’d already been halfway out the door before Louis showed up.

That night he cried into his pillow because all of a sudden he realized they’re not just drifting apart, but Harry’s starting to act like a complete asshole to him for no reason and it’s too much to deal with. Ashton happened to call for an unrelated reason, but he noticed something was wrong and asked about it first. Louis didn’t tell him of course, but they stayed up all night talking about utter nonsense until they ended up falling asleep on the phone together around sunrise.

It’s too painful to even think about Harry and their obviously disintegrating relationship and he doesn’t know what to do because Harry won’t even talk to him, so Louis just tries his best to ignore the whole situation and hope it passes soon. If numbing his mind with pills and immersing himself in someone else just so he doesn’t have time to dwell could be considered ignoring it.

By the time Saturday rolls around, he’s so ready to drink himself into a coma that he’s at Ashton’s by ten even though the party doesn’t start until noon.

Ashton lives in a fucking mansion in a gated community, complete with a courtyard out front, a huge staircase leading up to the door, and fancy Greek columns holding up the lavish overlook on the top story. The way Ashton is about his family’s riches though, it’s impossible not to feel completely comfortable even in such an upscale environment.

“Lou, you do know this is a _pool_ party, right?” Ashton answers the door already in his swim trunks.

“I didn’t realize the festivities were starting so early.” Louis shrugs, eyes wandering all over.

“Yet, here you are in all your fully clothed glory.” Ashton quips.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get me naked already.” Louis pushes past him and into the kitchen, where it’s all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and there’s piles of snacks and a spread of various beers and liquors set out on the flashy granite counters. “We’ve only been dating for like, a week. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Not naked, just shirtless. Though I wouldn’t object if you wanted to lose your pants, too.” Ashton wraps his arms around Louis’ waist from behind, bending over to rest a chin on his shoulder and leave a few gentle kisses in the crook of his neck that have his spine tingling and his knees feeling like jelly.

“Pants are staying on.” Louis is firm. “Shirt comes off when the party starts. If you see my tummy now you’ll run, but after a few drinks you won’t care as much.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know?” Ashton’s hands find Louis’ belly and he gives it a little squeeze. “You’re so hot and you don’t even know it.”

“Look what I have to compete with!” Louis squirms out of his embrace and turns to face him, pointing out Ashton’s perfectly sculpted abs and definitely not sort of almost drooling at the sight.

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition with you.” Louis accuses, and Ashton chuckles.

“Okay, yeah, you got me there.” He admits. “In that case, maybe it is, but you win this round by a landslide.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“Do I ever let you win just to be nice?”

“No.” Louis grumbles in defeat.

“Exactly.”

“Whatever. How soon can we crack open these cans?” He wonders, fiddling with a six pack of beer. He knows Harry will be around later, and he wants to be good and numb before that time arrives. He’s not even sure when Harry gets off work, or if he’s even working today for that matter, since they haven’t said two words to each other in days.

“It’s still the AM, Lou, slow down.”

“It’s 5 ‘o clock somewhere.” Louis quotes.

“Are you hiding some deep, dark, alcoholic tendencies I should know about? I think that’s something to consider before this gets too serious.” Ashton teases.

“Would that stop it from getting too serious?” He challenges.

“Probably not.” Ashton reaches out to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. “I like you so much, I’d blindly follow you right into the horrible world of blackout drinking and eventual recovery and AA meetings.”

“Who says I’m looking to recover?”

“My poor, hopeful, lovesick heart.” Ashton swoons, making Louis laugh at his dramatics.

“Well, lucky for you I’m no closet addict, but I’m touched that you’d stay by my side through it all.” He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach Ashton’s lips for a quick kiss. “I just haven’t partied in a while, so I’m excited. I need this.”

“You have seemed a little upset lately.” Ashton notices. “Is everything alright?”

“Just family stuff.” Louis immediately dismisses, knowing he won’t press any further. They haven’t been dating long enough to get into the really deep conversations, so waving his bad moods off as things he doesn’t want to talk about has worked so far to keep the prying questions at bay.

At that, Ashton unscrews a bottle of vodka and pours out a shot for each of them.

“Understandable. Here, baby, drink it all better.” He toasts, and they clink their glasses together and down them at once.

The pool in his backyard is roughly the size of a small football field, and Louis is in awe. There’s another miniature one attached to it that bubbles up into a jacuzzi, a stage set up off to one side for the live music later, and a bunch of lounge chairs scattered all around the deck. The two of them sit in the sun and flirt the morning away, in between admittedly handsy make-out sessions, and the rest of the guys let themselves in a little past noon, giving Louis the same crap for not having his swimsuit on yet.

“Lou, please tell me you’re not gonna be one of those cheap douchebags who swims with all their clothes on.” Calum groans.

“I’m not.” Louis assures him. “I brought my trunks with me. The party hasn’t even started yet.”

“Good luck. I already tried, he’s not budging.” Ashton chirps.

“Oh, yes he is. He’ll have to change if he’s soaking wet.” Michael grins mischievously. “Let’s throw him in.”

“Please don’t.” Louis objects, curling into Ashton’s chest.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, Mikey.” Ashton rumbles, betraying Louis’ trust by lifting him up and slinging his torso over his shoulder in one quick motion.

He puts up a fight, squirming and kicking and screaming as the other boys laugh and chant “do it, do it, do it!”

“Ash, I swear to God if you don’t put me down I’ll hold out on kisses all night!” Louis protests.

“I’m not buying it. I know you can’t resist my sweet, sweet lips.”

“Call them that one more time and I assure you, I can.”

“I smell bullshit. You’re going in.” Ashton holds him over the pool and attempts to chuck him in, but Louis clings to him so tight he loses his footing and they both end up submerged.

“You crafty little bastard!” Ashton splashes water in his face when they surface.

Louis splashes back. “You just tried to throw me in and you’re calling me a bastard? At least you have your suit on!”

“And now you’ll have to change into yours.” Ashton swims towards him and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him in close.

Louis spits water in his face. “Get away from me. I warned you you’d have your kissing privileges revoked.”

Ashton kisses his nose anyway. “It’s cute that you think you’ll be able to stick to that.” His hair lays flattened against his head, wetly glistening in the sunlight, and his cheeks are dimpled with his perfect grin and Louis can’t help but roll his eyes in endearment before he softly brings their lips together.

“You win that round.” He says after they part, laughing as he splashes him in the face again and quickly wiggles out of his grip, swimming to the edge and climbing out of the pool for his own safety.

“Totally worth it!” Ashton yells from behind.

“You guys are so cute it makes me want to fucking puke.” Michael fake-barfs and Louis just kind of brushes him off because honestly, he’s harboring a petty resentment towards him for getting to spend so much time with Harry lately.

“Amen.” Luke and Calum agree.

He cracks a smile at that.

“Louis makes everything cute.” Ashton credits, pulling himself out of the pool and shaking the water out of his ears.

Slowly, more and more people arrive throughout the day, filling the pool and the deck and even the kitchen, and Louis is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people that can fit in the huge space. He sticks close to Ashton’s side for comfort and ends up getting introduced to literally hundreds of different faces, but it’s alright because Ashton keeps a hand around his waist or his shoulder at all times, or on his arm (or leg when they’re sitting) and in combination with the alcohol, it works well to keep him calm and happy.

By sunset, all his own friends are there too; Niall easily chatting up the crowd hanging out by the snacks in the kitchen, Liam and Zayn falling into Calum’s little dance group that’s formed on the pool deck, and Harry’s floating around with Michael somewhere, probably finding the rest of their old school mates and catching up with them or whatever. He barely even said hi when he arrived, and Louis had been sipping on beers all day so he’d got a nice buzz going and it wasn’t _too_ painful, but it still stung and as soon as the brief interaction was over, he started downing shots and letting the dizziness take over.

He ends up sitting on Ashton’s lap, leaning on his shoulder as they gather by the pool in a circle of some people he kind of knows. Kristen’s one of them and it’s not even weird to see her hanging out in such a casual setting, since she’s cool and young enough that she fits right in without any awkwardness at all.

“Lou, I had no idea you were such a partier.” She comments with a sly smile, taking a bite of the slice of pizza in her lap.

“’M not.” He confesses. “Ash is a bad influence on me. He spiked my drink. I thought this was apple juice, I swear.” He holds his red solo cup in the air and everyone laughs and he feels accomplished.

“I’m a bad influence?” Ashton feigns surprise. “Says the one who pressured me into a shot as soon as he got here this _morning_.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about. I don’t play with guns.” Louis shrugs, and Ashton just smirks fondly back.

“You know, I actually believe him over you.” Kristen says to Ashton. “I’ve seen you party before, and I can picture you pressuring him, not the other way around.”

Louis beams.

“He’s got you all fooled!” Ashton refutes. “It’s that adorable face of his, makes you think he’s so innocent.”

“You’re adorable too.” Louis brings his nose in closer to Ashton’s for an Eskimo kiss.

“Enough of that!” Someone in the group shouts, Louis forgets her name. Jen or something. “Some of us are single and bitter.”

“Not my problem.” Louis drunkenly flips her the bird and hugs himself closer to Ashton, stealing a real kiss that’s slow and sweet and lovely, just to rub it in her face. He catches a familiar head of curls staring from across the pool, and maybe he should be concerned about what Harry’s witnessing, but he’s had way too many to care at this point. If it makes him jealous or upset, good. He deserves it.

With nightfall comes the live music. There’s a bunch of other unknown bands there, friends of Ashton and the guys, and they take the stage one at a time, playing a few songs each and getting everyone even more pumped up than they already are. One of the members in band number three (Louis can’t remember any of their names, or much of anything in general right now) is piss drunk and ends up giving a sloppy attempt to play his guitar and then just sort of wanders off during the set, making for an awful performance. But pretty much everyone in attendance is full of booze at that point and they’re all feeling good enough that it just earns a collective laugh from the onlooking crowd.

When it’s 5 Seconds of Summer’s turn ( _that_ name he remembers, of course), Louis slides off Ashton’s lap and drags him towards the stage, stopping in front for a few quick kisses before sending him up with the rest of the guys. He’s the perfect supportive date through their whole set, dancing and singing along to everything, screaming for them even in between songs, and Ashton’s eyes are glued to him the whole time, moonlight illuminating everything from the sweat glistening on his skin to those perfectly dimpled cheeks.

He’s vaguely aware of Harry in the crowd somewhere near him, cheering for Michael, but again, he’s too drunk to care. Especially when they jump into his favorite song, “Unpredictable” and Ashton’s smiling knowingly down at him while still managing to keep the beat with skill, and Louis is so happy he feels like he could propel himself into the stars.

“Louis, what are you doing?” Liam shouts then, snapping him out of his trance as he’s dragged him away from the crowd and into the house, where the music is faint enough that they can actually hear each other talk.

“I was fucking dancing until you just ruined it. What the hell?” Louis complains.

“I mean, what are you _doing_?” Liam says again, and then he must realize Louis is too drunk to have any idea what he’s talking about, so he clarifies. “About Harry?”

Louis’ good high is killed in an instant. He’s so sick of talking about Harry, of thinking about Harry, why does everything always have to be about fucking Harry? What does any of this have to do with him?

“Whattabout him, Liam?”  Louis slurs.

“You guys are…” Liam falters, not knowing what to say. And how would he? Louis hasn’t even talked to Harry all week. He’s not even entirely sure himself what they are anymore.

“Friends!” Louis laughs, loud and harsh at the cold almost-truth of it. “Just friends. I’ve been telling you that since forever. We’re nothing but friends and s’all we’re ever gonna be, _maybe_ , if we can even get past this… whatever the fuck’s going on with him right now. All I know is, I’m done with this shit. I’m tired of waiting around for something s’never gonna fucking happen. So fuck off.”

“You’re drunk.” Liam accuses.

“No, my cup’s been filled with piss all night.” Louis snaps.

“Will you just talk to him, Lou? Please.”

“Why the fuck should I? Did he put you up to this?”

“I wish he did.” Liam scoffs. “But the both of you are so goddamn stubborn you won’t listen to reason. He likes you, Louis, and you’re making a big mistake right now.”

“Shut up, no.” Louis argues. “I’ll believe it when I hear it from him.”

“See what I mean?” Liam groans. “He’s just… he’s really not okay tonight. And I care about you both, and I hate seeing you guys fight like this.”

“We’re not fighting, we’re just ignoring each other.”

“Whatever, man. Will you just do something about it already? You deserve to be happy, alright? And so does he. And you’re fucking it all up by going out with Ashton. He’s a good guy too, but… I really think you and Harry should work things out. I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Louis spits. “You’re right, Ash is great. I _am_ happy. My only regret is wasting so much time crying over some asshole who gets off on fucking with my feelings. I’m done. Fuck off.”

“Lou—”

“I said fuck off, Liam! I don’t need you to look after me. ’M a grown man, I can make my own decisions. Leeme alone.” Louis tries to walk away, but he sort of loses his balance and has to lean against the wall to make the room stop spinning. Liam reaches out for him, but he jerks away from the touch and turns his head up like a child, until finally, Liam just gives an exasperated sigh and leaves the room.

Louis puts his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on them. He keeps telling himself he’s not gonna cry, because who the fuck does Liam think he is anyways? It’s none of his business what goes on between him and Harry, and if Harry’s so upset and wants to talk to him, why doesn’t he just fucking do it? If what Liam said is true and Harry actually does like him, why hasn’t he said anything all this time? And why does all of this have to be happening right now, when he was having such fun and all of sudden it’s ruined his night?

“Louis.” Someone interrupts his frenzied thought process.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone, Li?” He whips his head up to meet those fucking piercing green eyes, sparkling even under the dim lighting and through the haze of the smoke-clouded air.

Harry smiles weakly and reaches down to touch his face, but Louis pulls out of range.

“What do you want?” He snaps, leaving no time for a response. He’s too angry and sad and drunk and everything is just erupting now. “What do you fucking want, Harry? God, _what_?”

“I want you, Louis.” Harry blurts.

“Fuck off. Fuck you.” Louis shakes his head, trying to rid the words from his mind, telling himself it doesn’t even matter. He has Ashton now, he can’t let himself get dragged back down into this bottomless pit of Harry pining.

“No, Lou, I’m serious. Can we just talk for a minute? Please?” Harry begs. His eyes are so wide and glassy it’s enticing, and Louis wants to puke from how badly he wishes he could refuse, but knows he can’t. He hates the power Harry has over him, hates that he wasted a whole week going without those pretty emeralds and bouncy little loops of hair that he almost forgot were so ridiculously endearing. Hates that he can’t say no to that stupid, adorable face.

“You can talk.” He permits, staring down at the words on Harry’s bare ankles to avoid eye contact. “I’ve got nothing to say to you right now.”

Harry lifts him up bridal style and starts carrying him up the stairs.

“Put me down, you stupid ogre!” Louis wails, kicking his legs and banging his tiny fists against Harry’s chest. He hates that everyone is so much bigger than him and they think they can just lift him up and manhandle him whenever they want. “Let me go! Don’t touch me! ’M gonna scream!”

“You’re already screaming.” Harry points out, still calmly ascending, and Louis is angry that he can be so collected right now, when his own world is in complete turmoil. He huffs and pouts, helpless against Harry’s strength, until they’re alone in a quiet room and Harry finally sets him down on the bed.

“’M sorry, okay?” He jumps in right away. “Sorry for everything I ever did or didn’t do that’s hurt you. I’m an asshole and I don’t fucking deserve you, but I want you so bad. I like you so much. It scares the shit out of me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I like you. A lot. I’m terrified.”

And, oh. Louis really wasn’t expecting him to be so honest, to just lay all his cards on the table like that. It’s apparent from the way he’s rambling that he must’ve needed a lot of alcohol to muster up the courage for it.

Louis’ head is dazed from the booze and the confession and being carried upstairs and everything that’s changed for him since Harry came into his life. He’s trying to sort out the last five months in his head and his brain is struggling to grasp the idea that Harry’s been feeling the same way about him all along.

“Why?” He’s tentative; part of him is sure this is some kind of awful dream and if he lets himself get too invested, he’ll wake up with a tortuously insatiable ache in his chest.

“Why do I like you?” Harry cutely tilts his head to the side.

“Why d’you like me? What’re you so scared of? Why’re you saying all this now?” He badgers.

“I just… you’re perfect, Louis. You’re cute and funny and sweet, and you’re so… you’re just like, you’re just. I don’t know. I can’t think. It’s everything. You just make me happy and I’ve missed you so much.” Harry’s eyes are fierce and intense even through his drunken babbling and his words don’t make much sense, but neither does anything else right now.

“Go on.” Louis urges.

“Uhm, I’m scared because, like, I’m shit at relationships. I always fuck things up and I don’t want to do that with you. I thought I could deal with us just being friends, but I can’t anymore. ’M selfish and greedy and I want you.” He sighs, deep and heavy, running his fingers through his hair and Louis’ heart is racing as his mind clings to the phrase _I want you_ , replays it over and over in his head.

“I know I should’ve done something about it a long time ago, but I just. I don’t know. I’m a coward. I’m sorry.”

“Why now, though?” Louis wonders. “What’s changed?”

“I just can’t take it anymore!” He raises his voice in frustration, and Louis secretly thinks it’s really hot watching him get all riled up. “Seeing you with Ashton tonight’s driving me absolutely mental. I hate him. Hate watching him touch you like that. Seeing you guys kiss and cuddle and make stupid fucking heart eyes at each other, god, I can’t stand it. I want to punch him in the fucking face.”

“You hate violence.” Louis reminds him.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees.

“You’d punch someone in the face for me?”

“I’d beat the fucking hell out of someone for you.” Harry growls.

Maybe it’s wrong to be so turned on by the idea of someone giving your date a black eye, a bloody nose, kicking the breath out of them until they’re crying and begging for mercy, but the idea of being desired so badly that Harry would compromise his morals just to claim his steak is actually really touching.

And infuriating, because it’s all wrong and it’s not fair and it’s still so hard to believe.

“Fuck, Harry. Fuck!” Louis pulls on his hair, not even knowing what do with all of this new information.

He likes Ashton, he does, but Harry is _Harry_ and he’s right here, handing his heart over on a silver platter. He and Ashton have never really said they were official or exclusive, but he knows it would hurt him to find out all this is going on behind his back and he doesn’t want to do that to him but he can’t think straight. There’s too much happening in his head and the alcohol only makes it harder to concentrate. “Why’d you have to wait until… like, _fuck_! Jus when I thought I was moving on? Are you serious right now? Fuck you.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Harry apologizes again, hanging his head to stare at the floor. “I guess, I dunno, it took seeing you with someone else for me to realize? And like, I tried to keep my mouth shut and stay away, cause you seemed happy with him. I really did try, but I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re such an ass. I hate you so much right now.” Louis fumes.

“You don’t mean that.” Harry hopes, looking back up with bright, trusting eyes.

“No. ’M just pissed.” He admits.

“Drunk or angry?”

“Both. Fuck you.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Yeah, well, you deserve to hear it. I…” Louis hesitates; still not sure this is the right thing to do, but also not entirely sure he even cares anymore. It’s _Harry_ , after all. “I want you, too. Have since the first fucking time I ever saw you. But you just, you just like, strung me along all this time and all of this is just now coming out and it’s such bad timing and I hate that I still want you.”

“I’m so sorry, Lou.” Harry is sincere. “I didn’t even know… I mean, I thought _maybe_ you _might_ like me back, but, I mean. You never made a move either, so, like, I was afraid of risking it.”

Louis just glares at him, faltering only when he realizes Harry’s right. He was scared too, but he never even tried to make it into anything more and neither did Harry, so they just ended up getting tangled in this big, weird mess of friendship and feelings and both of them are to blame for it.

“We really fucked this up, didn’t we?” He finally sighs.

Harry looks at him and cracks the tiniest hint of a smile. “I think it can be fixed. If you wanna try.”

He can’t hold back his own smile from spreading sightly, too. “Really? This is really happening?”

“Yeah. It is. Finally.” Harry chuckles lightly, seizing the opportunity to close the distance between them. Like something straight out of a movie, Harry brushes a piece of hair behind Louis’ ear, cups his chin to tilt his face up, and leans over to press their lips together. It’s soft at first, a gentle wind fluttering against the leaves in the breeze and Louis feels it everywhere. It hits him for real that this isn’t a dream, he’s really kissing Harry right now and it means something, just like he’s wanted for so long and he can’t help throwing himself into it.

He reaches up, tangles his fingers in chocolates tresses and pulls him down further; shimmying backwards on the bed so there’s room for him to climb on top. It’s heat and tongue and urgent breaths as their mouths seal together, not wanting to miss even an inch or a second of it all. Harry’s hands drag down his chest and his stomach and leave a deadly sting in their wake, settling on his waist and Louis grinds his quickly hardening cock up against Harry’s hips, moaning a plea into his mouth.

“We’re drunk.” Harry reminds him, breath hot and heavy against his skin as he breaks their kiss. His lips never stop though, tracing over his jaw and right down to his neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there.

“Yeah.” Louis agrees.

“Sure you won’t, like,” He’s still marking him in between words, “Regret this, tomorrow?”

“God, you’re so fucking considerate.” Louis groans, like it’s a dirty word. “Just fuck me.”

“I’m serious.” Harry tears away from his skin, licks his lips like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. “You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” Louis whines, arching up into his pelvis again. “I wan’it when I’m sober. I wan’it now.”

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Harry’s pupils are blown and his eyes hungry as he rakes them over Louis’ bare chest and dives back down for more. It all happens in a blur of mussed hair and vodka lips and sticky fingers; one minute they’re kissing, making-out, rutting against each other through their suits, and then Harry’s got a hand on Louis’ cock, slicked from precome, and he jerks just enough to get him really hot and bothered, loving the way he curses and pleads for more.

He takes a condom and a packet of lube from his pocket and pulls his trunks off, throwing them to the floor, and Louis is too lost in the sight of his swollen cock standing hard against his abs to register the moment between when he coats his fingers and the moment one slides inside, cold and abrupt and so, so good.

He feels it curls upwards, twisting and moving inside him and he clenches around it, whimpering as Harry adds a second, scissoring and working him open. The third slides in easily and he grinds down on them, squirming and writhing underneath him because it’s not enough, he still feels so empty and he just wants Harry’s cock already, fingers just aren’t doing it for him. He pleads for more and watches something carnal awaken in Harry’s eyes. 

He wastes no time retreating his fingers after that, fitting the condom on and quickly pumping a sheen of lube over himself as he leans down, hungrily licking into Louis’ mouth when he finally slides in. It starts slow and deliberate and comes with a tortured grunting on Harry’s part as Louis yields to his length. Harry pauses halfway to let him adjust to the stretch and Louis gets impatiently greedy.

“No no no no, don’t stop.” He whines, pushing himself down, trying to take it all in.

Harry lets out a soft little chuckle at how adorably eager he is and gladly keeps going, watching his length disappear inside the tight warmth, groaning when it’s completely concealed and they’re skin to skin and Louis is fiercely biting his bottom lip, head tilted back and hair splayed out on the pillow.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Harry’s voice is low and rough as he leans down again, kissing all over Louis’ sharply sculpted jawline and burying his face in the tattoos on his collarbones.

“Move.” Louis demands, so Harry slides out slowly, then back in, fast and hard and deep and Louis cries out, fisting the blankets in his strained hands. He does it a few more times just for the delicious reaction, and then he can’t wait anymore, he has to speed up, and it’s not long before he’s panting roughly into Louis’ neck as he relentlessly pounds into him, hitting all the right places like he’s been there a thousand times before. Louis is an unchained mess beneath him, nails digging fierce little marks into Harry’s back as he just takes it, again and again, communication dwindled down to nothing but desperate moans and a slew of various affirmations.

Louis’ cock is throbbing as it slides against the counters of Harry’s abs and the friction’s so good and he’s so close and his whole world is just Harry, filling him up and pining him down and panting against his skin, he’s everywhere and Louis can’t believe this is actually happening and that’s what does it, knowing he’s finally got all of this with the guy he’s been literally dreaming about for so long.

His cock pulses as he shoots out, hot and thick on his chest, and Harry fucks him through it, groaning profanities into his ear. He slams in hard a few more times before pulling out, yanking the condom off and stroking himself to finish, crying out as he spills cloudy streaks all over Louis’ stomach.

Harry runs his hand through the mess, mixing their cum together and he brings it to Louis’ lips and god, it’s fucking beautiful the way he welcomes his fingers into his mouth, sucks them off like a starving child finally given water after living on an empty stomach for days, and sloppily drags his tongue across his bottom lip to lap up every last drop.

Harry collapses on top of him, sweat and fluids suctioning their chests together, and he lets out a little breathless laugh that Louis happily joins him in.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.” He huffs, lazy and winded.

“Yes I do.” There’s a smug smile in Louis’ voice. “You’ve been after it since we met.”

“True.” Harry grins. “And it was more than worth the wait. You’re incredible.”

“You’re…” Louis struggles to find a word to accurately describe the absolute fucking bliss he feels. He gives up easily. “I can’t even think right now. That’s how incredible _you_ are.”

“Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

It doesn’t even bother Louis to hear his stupid innuendos now, because if Harry had to spend the past few years of his life fucking everything with a pair of legs to build up that skill, then thank heavens for it.

Harry rolls his weight off and lays by his side and Louis looks over at his profile, cheeks tinted pink and lips swollen red and curls stuck to his forehead, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

Harry starts using the blanket to clean the both of them up, and Louis laughs as it rubs over his stomach to soak everything up.

“Whoever’s room this is, they’re not going to be happy when they find this cover tomorrow.”

“I hope it’s Ashton’s.” Harry says, and Louis drops his jaw and smacks him on the shoulder.

“Harry! That’s terrible.” He scolds. Honestly, Ashton has been the farthest thing from his mind until now, and it’s like a punch in the gut to be reminded of his cheery grin and know he’ll have to let him down. _Hey, thanks for the fling, it was nice while it lasted but I’ve got what I really want now, so, see ya!_ It feels so villainous.

“I’m terrible.” He frowns.

“You’re not.” Harry assures. “You’re beautiful and lovely and kind and you’re the best person I know.”

“No, I’m awful. I’m scum. He’s gonna hate me forever.”

“Can we not do this now?” Harry pulls him onto his chest and his arms secure around him as he steals a kiss. “I’ll give you a pep talk later, but for now I just want to enjoy this. I don’t want him tainting our moment.”

“You’re right.” Louis is quick to agree, a pro at avoiding his problems until they fester into something much worse. Plus, he wants to relish in the after-sex glow just as much as Harry apparently does. “You’re cute when you’re jealous though.”

“You’re cute always.” Harry grins.

They stay like that for a while, huge hands playing in his hair as they lay in near silence except for the faint sounds of music and laughter from the party still going on downstairs, and the even fainter sounds of their breathing. It hits him again that _this is actually happening,_ and for a moment he doesn’t care that Ashton will be hurt by the news, or that going back to work will definitely be the most awkward time of his life, and for once he’s not even worried about his mental health or his future or any of the million other tiny things that plague him daily because he has Harry and that makes him feel indestructible. A meteor could come crashing to the Earth right now and it would destroy everything and wipe out all human life, except for him and Harry in their cozy little bubble.

“Lou?” Harry asks, breaking the comfortable quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how before this, I said I like you a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I take it back. I think I’m actually in love with you.” Harry’s tracing little patterns into the skin of Louis’ back now and it’s absolutely electric. Everything is sunshine and rainbows and sparkles and he wishes life had a rewind button so he could go back and hear him repeat the words forever.

“Say that again.” He demands, and Harry obliges automatically.

“I love you, Louis.” His voice is firm and sure and it sounds even better the second time around. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know.”

“I do have to say it back.” Louis insists. “But only because it’s true. I love you, too. I think I always have.”

“That’s really nice to hear.” Harry’s smiling down at him and it’s even better than his usual grin because it’s soft and fond and Louis just wants to kiss him all over. “Will you say it again, too?”

“I love you, Harry.”

“Thanks. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“You do deserve it, and I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.” Louis argues. “I’m sorry for all that shit I said earlier. You’re amazing and I love you.”

“You’re already forgiven. I know how you get when you drink sometimes.”

“How’s that?”

“Moody and emotional.”

“I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I love you anyway.” Harry kisses him again, and again, and again, and Louis lays his head back down on his chest and lets the sound of his heartbeat carry him off on a cloud of contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still trying to get over my intimidation at writing smut scenes, so i hope that was good and made you want to touch yourselves hahahaha
> 
> also i'm interested in your thoughts on the confrontation, i know there's been a lot of buildup to it so i hope you weren't disappointed in how it went down. personally, i'm a big fan of drunk & angry lou and i was squealing to myself as i wrote the whole the whole mushy end scene, too. but as usual, i would very much like to know how you guys feel about it all~


	12. If you don't let it out, you're gonna let it eat you away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter could possibly be triggering if you're struggling with depression too. it's nothing terribly bad, but i felt kind of sad myself when i was re-reading it, so just be aware. other than that, i haven't got much to say except thank you a million times again for all your wonderful feedback and continued interest in this story. enjoy xx

“Lou,” He’s vaguely aware of someone calling his name, but his head feels heavy and his eyes won’t open so he just groans and rolls over on his side.

The voice gives a soft little laugh, and he feels a pair of lips touch his skin and start blowing air through them; raspberries. It should probably be cute, but he’s still exhausted so it’s just a disturbance and he wiggles out of the way to continue sleeping.

“Louiiis, wake up.” Harry urges.

He groans and turns over again, lying flat on his back.

“Come on, we gotta go. People are starting to clean up downstairs.”

It all comes back in random pieces. Ashton’s party, being thrown in the pool, spilling his drink at some point, a blur of music and dancing and yelling and sex. Really great sex. With Harry, who’s pulling him out of bed and handing him his swim trunks and who’s shirt is that? He pulls it on anyway and follows Harry’s lead out of the room, into the hall, still shaking his head to awareness. He squints at the morning sun spilling in through the windows, harsh and blinding in his eyes.

“Haz, did we—”

“Yeah.” Harry’s grin is splitting his face in half and the light breaks through his curls in a way that makes him look like an actual angel.

“And did you… like it?” He’s still got a bit of liquid courage left in him.

Harry wraps his arms around his waist, bringing their chests together, pushing Louis’ back against the wall. He brings a finger to his chin and turns it up for a slow kiss that makes Louis’ skin feel alive. “I _loved_ it. You’re beautiful. I love you.”

He can’t help the smile that stretches across his face as he remembers it all, but there’s still a shred of doubt left that he can’t squelch either. “So it wasn’t just the booze talking? You really meant it?”

“Of course I meant it, babe.” Harry’s nose is lightly brushing against the side of his face. “I’ve sobered up now, if that makes you feel any better.”

“A little.” He lowers his voice to a shy murmur. “I’m still afraid you’re gonna realize you’ve made a horrible mistake and take it all back, though.”

“Then I’ll just have to prove to you that you’re wrong and I’m here to stay.” Harry kisses his forehead.

Someone clears their throat, loud and obnoxious, and they both look over to find Luke standing at the top of the stairs in his usual ripped tee and jeans with holes in the knees. He’s got a trash bag full of junk in one hand and he doesn’t look happy and Louis feels his stomach drop into his butt.

“If you two are finished, you can get out now.” He says, accent thick with anger.

“Sorry. We’re on our way.” Harry apologizes, fitting his fingers in between Louis’ and dragging him behind as they push past to make their way down the grand staircase. Louis looks over his shoulder and Luke is still watching the two of them go, hostility in his eyes aimed directly at Louis.

They don’t run into Ashton or any of the other guys on the way out, and he’s relieved at that because if Luke was that clearly upset and he wasn’t even the one involved, he can only imagine what Ashton’s going to do to him when he finds out.

“You okay?” Harry checks in the car on the way home.

“You saw how he looked at me. He hates me. Ashton is gonna murder me in cold blood and Luke will help him hide the body.” Louis blurts immediately.

Harry chuckles lightly. “Don’t worry, I’d never let that happen.”

“They’ll kill you too. I never thought I’d actually have to write my will at 21, but it looks like we should both probably get started on that as soon as possible.”

“Honestly, I think he’ll be more hurt than angry.”

“That’s the pep talk you’ve prepared for me?” Louis is incredulous. “Thanks. I feel so much better.”

“Sorry.” Harry retracts. “He seems like… a nice guy, though. Maybe he’ll forgive you.”

Louis can tell the amount of effort it took for him to admit that, and can’t help the hint of a smile that threatens to twist his lips. “You think he’s a nice guy?”

“You seemed happy.” Is all Harry says.

“You think he’ll forgive me?”

“Let’s be real, Lou. I don’t even know him.” Harry reminds him. “If it were me though, I’d forgive you. You’re too cute to stay mad at.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “He calls me that a lot too, so maybe you’re right.”

Harry’s silent for a moment, concentrating on the road. He’s got one hand on the wheel while the other’s holding Louis’ and there’s a butterfly swarm alive in his stomach when he realizes this is how things are going to be between them now.

“Do you…” Harry starts, hesitating, keeping his eyes ahead. “I mean, you think I’ll realize I made a mistake doing this, but how about you?”

Louis blinks, honestly confused. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t feel like I’m a mistake?” Harry tries again.

“No, never.” He answers automatically. “This feels… perfect. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Harry dismisses, but he’s smiling as he does so. “You really believe in love at first sight?”

“No.” He admits, stroking the back of Harry’s palm with his thumb. “But I do believe in… knowing you could love someone, at first sight? If that makes sense. I’m still a little drunk.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment, and then he steals a quick side glance before focusing on the road again.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a little squeeze on Louis’ hand and Louis feels his heart do a somersault to the moon.

\--

By the time he has to be in for work that afternoon, his palms are sweaty and the lump in his throat is suffocating. He’s not really sure what he’s expecting; a lot of yelling and cursing maybe, but it isn’t a completely collected poker face from Ashton, a resentful stare from Calum (Luke too, but that he knew would happen), and definitely not the standard welcoming smile from Michael, of all people.

“Morning, Lou,” He greets, casual as ever. His hair is bright greenish blue today, a patchy dye job that was obviously done while intoxicated last night.

“Uh, morning.” Louis spares him a nod, but the glaring eyes of his coworkers are making him squirm and the way Ashton is deliberately concentrating on wiping down the tables, very pointedly trying not to acknowledge his existence is churning his insides.

“Hope you had a great time at the party, Louis. Hope you’re happy.” Calum immediately tears into him, and Ashton looks up and leers disapprovingly.

“What?” Calum plays innocent. “I do. I hope he’s infinitely satisfied with what he’s done to you. I hope him and Harry—”

“Enough!” Ashton shuts him up, leaves the cloth on the table and removes his uniform apron in one quick movement. “Louis, can we talk outside for a minute?”

Of course, he’s filled with dread at the impending confrontation, but equally as desperate to get away from his (former?) friend’s scrutinizing stares. He follows behind as Ashton leaves the shop and the two of them round a corner so the other boys can’t see or hear anything.

Ashton crosses his arms and leans against a lamppost.

“So, obviously, I know what happened.” He starts, sighing. “Sort of. I know you slept with him, at least.”

“I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry.” Louis blurts right away, but the alcohol has long since worn off and he still isn’t any better at talking about feelings than he was before last night. He wants to give him the explanation he deserves, just doesn’t know how. “I didn’t mean… I just, we were drunk and it just like, I don’t know. I’ve liked him forever and he said he liked me too and it was so unreal and it just kind of happened.”

“It’s okay.” Ashton says, and Louis is honestly taken aback.

He blinks a few times, stunned. “It is?”

“Yeah.” Ashton nods in reassurance. “I knew there was something going on between you two anyways. I mean, I didn’t _know_ , but I figured.”

“And you’re okay with it?” Louis is astounded. Yet another thing he definitely hadn’t anticipated was being let off the hook so easily. He’s not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of cruel trap he’s walking right into.

“Are you guys like… together now?” Ashton’s question comes out soft and quiet, like he’s not entirely sure he can even handle the answer. When Louis gives him a confirming nod, his breath lets out almost automatically and his head falls so he’s staring at the ground rather than looking Louis in the eyes when he speaks again.

“I mean, it hurts.” He says, and Louis wants to hug him close and pet his hair and tell him how sorry he is and what an absolute asshole he feels like for hurting him. “I liked you a lot, Louis. I still do, I guess. You’re not suddenly a different person because you hooked up with someone else. But I sort of expected it? I mean, fuck. No I didn’t. I never saw it coming, but at the same time, it wasn’t a huge shock to hear about. So it could be a lot worse.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” Louis’ responding voice is hushed. “I really liked you, too. You weren’t just some stupid fling to pass the time. I thought… I mean, I honestly never saw it coming either, so I really thought you and I could be something.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” Ashton looks up and gives a little half-smile.

“I’m not. I mean it, Ash. I had so much fun with you and you made me really happy and like, it just made sense and it was easy, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He nods in agreement.

“So don’t ever feel like it meant nothing to me. It did, it meant a lot.” Louis assures him.

“Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse about the end of it.” Ashton confides.

“I’m so sorry.” His apology comes immediately.

“It’s okay, really. I’m just being mopey.” Ashton waves him off and tries to collect himself again, but the grief is still clear behind his gaze.

“I feel like such an asshole.” Louis mutters.

“Don’t, please. You’re great.” Ashton says, and fuck, that only makes him feel worse. He isn’t the one who needs to be comforted right now, but Ashton is so kind and caring, of course he would try to do that. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose and like I said, I knew I was getting in the way of something that had already been there a while.”

“You weren’t getting in the way.” He argues, but Ashton is having none of it. They just stand there for a moment, Ashton staring back at the ground, lost in thought again while Louis gives him a moment to come to terms with everything.

“So, we’re cool then?” When Ashton finally looks back up, he’s just as bright and genuine as usual. “I’ll talk to the guys and tell them to let up on you and we can all go back to how it was before, when we were just friends?”

Louis hesitates; astonished yet again that Ashton is being so understanding. It’s just a reminder of what a purely good person he is, if he’s willing to overlook it all so easily and without even any anger towards him.

“You really still want to be friends with me?” He quirks his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yeah, of course.” Ashton’s utterly and adorably sincere. “You’re one of the coolest people I know. I don’t wanna lose that over some dumb failed, almost-relationship or whatever. Friendship is way more important.”

“You’re too good to me.” Louis resolves.

“I know. How’d you ever get so lucky?” Ashton scrunches his nose at him, so Louis sticks his tongue out and they share a snicker that lifts the crushing cement right off his shoulders.

When they get back to the shop, Ashton scolds the boys to treat him well, tells them he’s done nothing wrong. They agree, but he knows it’s only because they care about Ashton and don’t want to upset him further. He can still feel contempt from them whenever they accidentally bump into each other, or if they have to discuss an issue with a customer or an order, and they certainly aren’t joking around and messing with him like they normally would. Except for Michael, who seemed to be perfectly okay with him even before he and Ashton had talked it out.

“Hey Mikey, how come you aren’t mad at me like Luke and Cal?” Louis ventures during a lull, when the two of them have gone home for the day and Ashton is in the back, crushing up Oreos to refill the toppings dish.

“Dunno. I guess cause they don’t really know Harry or care about him like they do Ash. They’re just hurt to see him hurt.” Michael defends them. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s like my brother and it sucks to see him so let down, but I like Harry too. And I knew how he felt about you.”

“Did you know he was gonna make a move last night, then?” He wonders.

“Nah, but it didn’t surprise me.” Michael shrugs. “I’m kinda glad for you guys, actually. You have no idea how much he fucking talks about you. It’s worse than Ash, by far.”

Louis chuckles. It’s actually really hard to dislike Michael; he’s so chill and carefree, and Louis’ animosity towards him was petty anyways. Now that he has Harry to himself, there’s really no reason to be bothered by the two of them being friends, or him in general.

“Do you think they’ll forgive me?” He asks next.

“Oh yeah, especially since you guys worked it out.” Michael assures him. “I’d give it like three days, tops, before they’re back to normal.”

They both laugh at that one and Louis feels a little better.

Ashton doesn’t even flinch when Harry comes to pick him up later, all mindless curls and yellow daisies and dimpled grins. He greets Louis with a kiss and slides an arm around his waist, and Ashton actually fucking smiles at the two of them, joins in the banter between them and Michael and even gets Harry to crack a few reluctant smiles.

Even though Ashton seems fine with it, Louis can tell Harry’s still a little possessive by the way he looks at Ash and how he keeps Louis close to his side, making sure to be extra touchy-feely, absently brushing his hair out of his eyes, lightly stroking his face with the back of his fingers, planting soft little kisses on his forehead the longer they stay to chat. He catches a flicker of something behind Ashton’s eyes and notices him intentionally looking away whenever Harry does something ridiculous, so he cuts the visit short and quickly says goodbye to spare him for the day.

He doesn’t let Harry get away with it either, confronting him about it when they’re alone in Louis’ room later.

“Was all that really necessary today?” He asks after a good hit, passing the bowl to a crisscrossed Harry next to him on the bed.

Harry doesn’t even bother playing dumb. “Yes. I wanted to make sure he knew.”

“He does. We talked about it, okay? There’s no need to rub it in his face.” Louis is irritated. It’s a bit flattering that he’s jealous, really, but Ashton is very reasonably still sensitive about the situation and that couldn’t have been easy for him to watch.

“Why? He got to rub it in my face when he had you.” Harry pouts.

“I was the one doing that, not him.” He takes the blame for all the poolside cuddling and kisses that Harry happened to see.

“I still don’t like him.” Harry’s stubborn.

“Just try to tone it down a bit next time, please?” Louis beseeches, admittedly invoking his soft eyes and slight frown because he knows Harry’s helpless to his puppy dog face.

“Fine.” Harry quickly agrees then. “But it wasn’t just for him, you know. I can’t help it. You’re so cute and I still can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“And that’s why I didn’t stop you.” Louis admits. It’s so exciting to finally be able to show each other off that he really didn’t have the heart to tell him to cut it out, even though he knew it was inappropriate.

“Why do you care so much though? Do you still have feelings for him?” Harry wonders, casually taking a hit in order to avoid eye contact.

Of course he does, feelings don’t just go away overnight. They’re much less than what he feels for Harry, but they’re still there. And regardless, they did decide to stay friends. The last thing he needs is sparked resentment between them.

“He’s my friend, Harry. I already feel like an asshole for hurting him.” He says instead. “I just don’t want to make it any worse.”

“What exactly did he say when you told him?”

“He said he’s fine with it and that he already suspected there was something going on between us anyways.”

“So he knew what he was doing, yet he still went after you anyways.” Harry concludes. “And I’m not allowed to be cross with him for it?”

“No, you’re not.” Louis orders. “You won, alright? So just be the bigger man and let it go.”

“Am I really the bigger man, though?” Harry alludes.

Louis falters, chuckling at his dumb innuendo. After not speaking to him for a while, it’s nice to recognize that familiarity between them again. “I don’t know, we didn’t make it that far. You know me.”

“True.” Harry seems smugly satisfied.

“I’m absolutely sure you’re much bigger and better than him, though.” He reaches out to pat Harry’s knee in patronizing reassurance.

“Good answer.” Harry grins, leaning over for a smoky kiss. It’s slow and sure like they’ve done this a million times already, yet still fire and electricity and Louis’ toes curl in his socks when he realizes they can keep going, now. He leans into it, grabbing Harry’s bottom lip between his and Harry licks into his mouth, instantly on the same page.

Harry stretches his legs out on the bed and Louis climbs over him, straddling his waist. Harry’s hands rest on his hips and their mouths stay glued together as he starts grinding in little circles against his rising cock, loving the way his breath gets heavier in response, already burning and craving more.

“Hey, it’s the happy couple! Fuckin’ finally!” Zayn barges in the room and plops himself down on Niall’s bed, completely casual despite the fact that Louis is literally on top of Harry and just about ready to rip his clothes off. Harry laughs against his mouth and breaks away, making Louis whine in protest.

“Fuck off Zayn, we’re busy.” He snaps.

“Not a chance man, we gotta celebrate.” Zayn throws a ziplock nearly full of pot across the room and it lands on the bed, right next to the two of them. “Harry, go ahead and roll some of that.”

“This your way of getting me back for all those times you’ve bummed off me?” Harry smirks, opening the bag to sniff inside.

“Consider it an anniversary present.” Zayn nods.

“I don’t really think that’s how it works, Z. Anniversaries are usually, you know, _annual_.” Louis quips, finally rolling off of Harry and stretching out beside him.

“We’ll call it belated, then. Took you guys years just to officially get together.” Zayn shoots right back.

The door’s left open and Liam strolls right in then with a big, knowing grin on his face.

“Now Harry, wasn’t that easy? Aren’t you glad you took my advice?” He coos, cuddling in next to Zayn on the bed.

“Hush, Liam.” Harry doesn’t even look up from the blunt he’s busy rolling. “You weren’t the only one who tried to force it.”

“But I was the last one.” He brags.

“Did he yell at you last night, too?” Louis guesses, and Liam answers before Harry can.

“No, I just talked to him. I didn’t even yell at you, Lou. You just freaked out on me for no reason.” Liam gripes. “You’re a little shit when you get really pissed, you know that?”

Harry looks up at Louis and they share a playful smirk.

“Yeah, I do.” He admits easily, shrugging. “Sorry about that.”

Niall gets home an hour or so later, when they’re all lost deep in outer space (Zayn’s dealer only sells top-notch medical shit) and just the sight of him walking in the room makes them all burst out in hysterical laughter.

“Niall, did you bring crisps? You always have crisps. I’m hungry.” Louis greets him.

“Just here to pack a bag, mate. No way am I staying the night in this room for the next week, _at least_.” He glares at the two of them, Louis lying lazily in Harry’s lap as huge hands muss his hair.

“Don’t stay gone for too long, though. We’ll miss you.” Liam frowns.

“Yeah, and you can’t leave us here alone with these two in their eternal honeymoon phase.” Zayn adds.

“Like you guys are much better!” Niall accuses, shoving a bunch of random articles of clothing into his rucksack. “Between the four of ya, it’s gonna sound like a fuckin’ porno in here, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t see the problem with that.” Harry comments, sending them all into a raging fit of laughter again.

“I need to get a girlfriend.” Niall grumbles under his breath.

“You need to get high.” Zayn argues, tossing him a joint and a lighter.

He doesn’t refuse, of course, staying for a while to smoke and pig out (he does have crisps, it turns out; regular and barbeque) and join in poking fun at Harry and Louis for the ridiculous amount of time they spent in limbo. Time passes slowly when they’re all in a separate universe, but it’s late by the time Niall slings his bag over his shoulder and slinks out of the room again.

“See ya whenever!” He calls, shutting the door behind as he makes his exit.

It turns out that not sticking around probably was the best idea for him. That night is an unspoken competition between the two couples, of who can fuck the loudest and the longest. Liam and Zayn take the cake for theatrics, but they’re right about that new-love glow, and Louis hasn’t been laid in ages before last night, and Harry is gorgeous and wonderful and finally all his, so rounds two and three are definitely just as necessary as the first.

He’s not sure what time it is when they give up for good and collapse next to each other in a sweaty heap of bare skin and broken petals, but it’s pitch black and completely silent except for the sound of their labored breathing. Harry finds his hand under the covers and fits their fingers together and it’s so fucking romantic, Louis sort of wants to puke.

He’s got everything. For all intents and purposes, this is the best his life’s been in… he can’t even remember how long. He’s got a bigger social circle and support system than ever, old friends and new ones and family still. Ashton’s not only not angry with him, but still willing to be part of his life. His job is perfect, he actually looks forward to going to work now, money is hardly an issue anymore, he’s not got to worry about school or deadlines or any of that, and most important of all, he’s got Harry, the guy who makes his heart run marathons in minutes.

So why can’t he escape the nagging feeling that there’s no point to it all? What’s it all worth? Sure, things are going great now, but he knows better than anyone that good things never last and even if by some miracle, life does stay this magical forever, who’s to say it will be enough? Why can’t he escape the feeling that it’s supposed to be something greater than just this painfully average thing he’s created for himself?

Maybe that’s it—the utter normalcy of it all.

There are people out there travelling the world, experiencing it to the fullest. People with loads of riches who don’t have to work just to survive; they can sleep all day, shop whenever they want, buy a jetski and fly to the beach one day, take a hot air balloon ride over the mountains the next. People who sing in front of millions of fans screaming their names every night, people who get dolled up by professionals to pose for the cameras on a red carpet before thousands of adoring onlookers who’ve just seen their latest film. 

Even people without fame or riches, who can take a brush to a canvas and create masterpieces with the capability of touching someone’s soul, or put words on pages for others to cling to in their darkest times and god, why did he ever stop reading, anyway? That’s something he should probably pick up again. It’s the only thing that ever gave him a true escape from all of this emotional turmoil nipping away at his insides.

It’s not something he thinks about often, but when he does he realizes how much it aches to know he’s not talented or rich or famous or even _alive_ , not just _living_. It’s the absence of fulfillment, and maybe none of those things would even bring him that in the first place, but he’ll never get to find out. It’s just the yearning of wishing for something greater than average that bothers him, and the worst part is that he’s not sure if there even is anything that can make him feel accomplished and satisfied in a way that he’ll finally be able to say he’s truly happy, and he’s scared to death that he’ll never find it.

What if his entire life is just one big trial and error, always attempting to find things that properly fill the gaping hole inside; a permanent itch on his soul that can only be scratched by finding purpose. And if he never discovers what that is, then all of this is just a big waste of everyone’s time.

Sure, there are things that make him temporarily happy and that he looks forward to on a daily basis, like laughing with his friends and watching his sisters grow up and Harry, always Harry. But what is any of that actually doing for his own future? Is he ever going to stop living just for the people who claim to need him around in order to be okay? When does he get to start living because he actually _wants_ to, not just because he feels like he has an obligation to?

“Lou? Are you okay?” Harry worries, looking over at him through the dark.

He curses himself for being so transparent around him. He used to be good at keeping his panic moments hidden, but something about Harry just naturally disarms his facades.

“I’m f—”

“Please don’t tell me you’re fine, Louis. I know you’re lying to me.” Harry’s demanding but his voice is somehow gentle, more of a plead than an absolute command and the pain behind it is an arrow shot right through Louis’ heart.

He sighs, considering. Part of him wants to be able to share the mess going on inside his head, but the other part hasn’t opened up about these things to anyone who isn’t paid to listen to them in so long, he can’t even form the words.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just don’t know what to tell you.” He finally says, and it’s the truth. Harry is bright and happy and warm and he’s cold and dark and sad and Harry wouldn’t understand this side of him at all.

“Tell me the truth.” Harry suggests.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He almost whispers.

“How can you say that when you haven’t even let me try?” Harry counters.

“Because it doesn’t even make any sense to me and I don’t know how to explain it, so there’s no way you’d get it.” Louis dismisses. He rolls over on his side so his back is to Harry and he doesn’t have to face the desperate look in his eyes.

The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t spill them. He just can’t. Harry would think it’s pointless for him to worry about these things, or stupid because Louis is so spoiled by life right now and he’s not even enjoying it properly, or most likely, he’d take it personally and feel like he isn’t doing enough to make him happy.

“Please, Lou? I hate seeing you like this.” Harry slides over and curls himself up behind him and they’re skin to skin, Harry with his arm draped over his, spooning. He nuzzles his nose against the back of Louis’ neck and makes the hair rise there. “If there’s something I can do to help, anything, I want to.”

“You can’t, though.” Louis sighs. “Trust me. I’m just being stupid and I don’t want to upset you by telling you what’s wrong. I may not be fine right now, but I say that to you because I know I will be, and it’s nothing you should worry about.”

“But you need to talk about it, babe.” Harry presses, and Louis has to refrain from saying _I do talk about it, with my therapist, Harry, don’t worry_ just to get him to drop it. “If you don’t, it just gets all bottled up and it’ll make you edgy and sad it’s just not good. Look what happened to us when we kept our feelings a secret.”

“We ended up getting together and having fantastic drunken sex all in the same night?” Louis jokes, because anything is easier than letting Harry in.

He can feel the smile turn up against his skin. “Yes. But before that, there was a lot of confusion and yelling, and in the time leading up to all that, things were strained and there was a lot of tension between us.”

“Sexual tension.” Louis claims.

“General tension.” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but that was when it concerned you too.” Louis argues. “This is just about my own personal issues and I promise it won’t affect us as a couple at all.”

Harry lets out a breath that sends tingles down Louis’ spine and his voice turns into a broken whisper with his next words. “I just wish you would trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

Louis tightens his lips into a hard line at the despair ringing in his ears. It hurts that Harry cares so much and wants to help so badly, but they’ve only been together a total of one whole day and Louis isn’t sure the past few months are enough to make him want to stay if he finds out what he’s really gotten himself into. He knows Harry will start thinking of him differently if he finds out about Louis’ illness and despite how it feels to make him suffer, that’s just not something he’s ready for yet.

Of course, he only feels like shit for keeping him out, though. It’s a no-win situation.

He entwines their fingers again, and Harry’s hand is big and warm and secure around his much smaller one, just like his whole body is a brick wall around his right now, too. He brings their hands up to his lips and kisses the back of his palm, gently.

Harry does understand his mannerisms at least, and he gets that it’s his way of closing the subject. He feels a kiss on the back of his neck in response, and he’s not sure how long they lay there in silence again before finally drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "feeeed meeee pleaaase" - my comment box


	13. Troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update's taken a little longer than most, but here it is finally! i just want to thank you guys for your patience, your continued praise, and i've noticed a few of you have been rec'ing this on your blogs and stuff and omfg i can't even tell you how happy that makes me and how much it means to me. thank you from the bottom of my heart, and i just hope you continue to love this story as much as i love all of you. <3
> 
> this chap starts from lou's pov and then switches to harry's about halfway. **tw for dark & suicidal thoughts so please be careful, my struggling friends. it seems kinda morbid to say enjoy after that, but as usual, enjoy xx

Louis lies in bed a bit too long the next morning, partly because he’s both mentally and physically exhausted, but mostly because he’s relishing in the sweet, homey aroma and spine-tinglingly magnificent acapella rendition of “Friday, I’m In Love” floating in the open doorway of his bedroom. He’s already heard it in full at least three times, but Harry’s singing is just as strong and deep and rough as his speaking voice and if Louis weren’t already half naked under the blanket, he’d be feeling too hot to keep his clothes on anyway.

He eventually pulls his weight out of bed and waddles into the kitchen where Harry’s standing by the stove in nothing but his black briefs, all bare back and long limbs and lean muscles that Louis can’t help but touch.

He wraps his arms around Harry from behind and pokes his hurricane of hair around the side to see what’s cooking, not quite tall enough to look over his shoulder without standing on his tiptoes.

“You are aware that it’s only Monday, right?” He teases, eying the golden brown pancakes fluffing up on the pan.

Harry just starts in with the next verse seamlessly.

“ _Monday_ you can fall apart / Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart / Oh, Thursday doesn’t even start / It’s Friday, I’m in love.” He’s so happy and smiley and warm and wonderful and it fills Louis up with such love and adoration, he feels it coursing right through his veins like concentrated sunshine’s been injected right into his system. He suddenly understands exactly why that’s Harry’s song of choice this morning and it would be criminal not to sing along.

“Saturdaaaay, wait / Sunday always comes too late.” He knows Harry loves his voice and he can see it in the fond little smile his mouth dimples into when he joins in. “But Friday, never hesitate.”

“I don’t care if Monday’s black / Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack,” They sing together, Harry’s sandpaper bass coinciding with his own alto melody for a sound he must admit is quite lovely. “Thursday, never looking back / It’s Friday, I’m in love!”

Louis nuzzles his nose against the ship tattoo on his arm and Harry suddenly drops everything to lift him up and spin him around like they’re in some kind of sickeningly cheesy romance movie. Regardless, his legs reflexively wrap around Harry’s waist and he hangs like a little koala on his chest as Harry kisses his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, the wrinkles around his smile and his eyes and all the little dips and curves of his face. Louis is smiling so hard it actually hurts and he instantly melts into kissing back when Harry finally settles on his lips.

“I’m so happy we’re together. I love you so much.” He says when they pull apart.

“I love you, too.” Louis beams, and Harry kisses him a few more times before finally setting him down on his feet again.

“Did you sleep alright?” He checks, and Louis’ stomach lurches at the memory of last night. He knows Harry just wants to make sure he’s okay, but he really wishes he wouldn’t have said anything because he’d been doing well avoiding the bleak thoughts until it was mentioned. Now he’s only reminded of what the day ahead holds; his achingly ordinary routine of work and a whole lot of nothing terribly exciting afterwards.

“I always sleep better when you’re with me.” He offers, trying to keep the flatness out of his voice.

“Good. I hope you’re hungry.” Harry seems contented with that as he tops off the big pile of pancakes on the plate and turns the stove off.

“I am. Feed me.” Louis sits himself at the table and waits to be served, because Harry never lets him fix his own food when he cooks, always insists that it’s the chef’s job to make sure his diners are satisfied, so Louis’d stopped trying to fight it long ago. Nothing wrong with having a hot boyfriend actually _wanting_ to wait on you hand and foot.

He digs in as soon as his food’s in front of him and Harry’s settled in the seat next to him.

“This is a pancake?” He asks after swallowing the first bite.

“Yeah, how is it?” Harry wonders, voice muffled with food, eyes wide with expectancy.

“It’s delicious, there’s just something… different about it.” He cuts off another piece with the side of his fork and stuffs his mouth full again.

Harry beams with pride. “It’s vegan. I thought I’d try something new.”

“What exactly does that entail?” Louis chews.

“No milk, no eggs. Just soy milk and some other boring stuff like flour, sugar, etcetera.”

“It’s actually good.” Louis takes another bite. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” Harry’s dimples are deep and adorable.

“Is this going to be a thing with you now?” Louis questions. “I’m the unsuspecting guinea pig for all your new recipes?”

“Probably.” Harry replies, taking a sip of his milk. Or, what Louis now knows to be _soy_ milk, and finds when he takes a sip of his own that it doesn’t actually taste all that different. “I don’t know for sure if I really can go full vegan, but I’m thinking about trying it.”

“Please just don’t turn into one of those insufferable arsewipes that constantly yaps to everyone about their fucking diet all the time.” Louis begs.

“If that ever happens, I give you permission to strangle me with your bare hands.” Harry promises. “Matter of fact, I’ll beg you to do it.”

Louis chuckles uneasily, taking another bite to keep his mouth busy so he doesn’t say anything stupid. Breakfast is good and Harry is cute and he loves just sitting here like this with him, talking nonsense in the light of a new day, but the thought that this is the best it gets drills a hole in the back of his head and spreads like a virus in his brain, making the mention of being strangled stir something ghastly inside him.

The highlight of his fucking day is eating breakfast with his boyfriend, something he does too often for it to still be considered important. After this he’ll go to work and it’ll be a lot of mindless banter and little productivity, then he’ll come home and hang out with the guys for a while, and maybe go out except not at all because he doesn’t want to go out or do much of anything. He just wants to crawl back into bed and waste his time there alone instead of trying to be a participating member of society, all the while wishing there was something lucrative about it all.

And fuck, it hurts to see that Harry is absolutely glowing today and to know he can’t match that. All the things he expects from today are _good_ , so why can’t he just feel good about them, instead of having a fucking existential crisis while staring into his pancakes? He suddenly doesn’t feel very hungry anymore, just tired and sad.

Harry must know something’s wrong, but for once he doesn’t say anything about it and that only contributes to his anxiety. Does he not care anymore? Has he given up on trying to make Louis feel better or even talk about it? Is he just going to accept defeat and let him suffer in silence from now on? Has he made a terrible mistake and pushed Harry away too far for him to bother anymore?

Maybe it’s time to start letting him in, Louis actually considers for once. He’s still fearful that he might end up saying too much and the inside of his head will scare Harry off, but now he’s also got to worry about not saying enough and achieving the same result. Maybe he bit off more than he can chew with this whole ‘relationship’ thing. Maybe he’s not actually ready for that kind of commitment at all.

“You ready to join me in the shower now?” Harry interrupts Louis’ worries as he wipes his mouth, finished with his meal already. Or maybe Louis just spent that much time lost in his head.

He accepts with a smile, genuinely glad to have a distraction, and he gets up to start the water while Harry clears the table.

Showering with your boyfriend is an excellent distraction from morbid thoughts, as it turns out. Harry fucks him into the tiles and he savors every delicious detail; the slickness of their bodies together, the slapping and splashing of skin against skin, the way the water glides down the crevices of all Harry’s inked sinews. They clean up after, lathering the shampoo into each other’s hair, taking their sweet time in scrubbing each other’s backsides, laughing when Louis drops the soap and has to bend over to get it and they both make a bad prison joke at the same time.

He thinks this is it, nothing can be better than the feeling of being wanted like this. Not just sexually, but being so close and intimate with someone that they can see you looking like hell and watch you silently fall apart in front of them one night, yet still be in love with everything about you the next morning. It’s the best feeling he can think of and if even that’s not enough for him to be happy, maybe nothing ever will be.

Harry still can’t keep his hands off him, even when they’re done toweling off and getting dressed. The quick kisses and little caresses don’t stop until they’re both ready for work and Harry’s finally out the door.

Louis waits a few minutes to be absolutely sure Harry’s gone before taking a few pills from the bottom drawer of his nightstand (he stopped keeping them in the bathroom cabinet sometime around when Harry made himself at home here; too risky) and medicating himself in preparation for the day ahead.

He realizes he still has a whole hour before he has to be in for work and his head is buzzing, making everything around seem too sharp and uncomfortable and the sting of his monotonous reality is still prodding at his brain, so he sets an alarm to be responsible and falls into bed for a quick nap to avoid too much thinking. His limbs are heavy and so are his eyelids, so he lapses into it easily and sixty minutes later stubbornly ignores the ringing of his phone and just turns over in bed, deciding in that instant to hide from everything in the world underneath his covers.

He wakes up a couple times throughout the day, but dozes off again before he can even check the time. Eventually, Harry gets home and finds him in bed and there’s no sleeping through that.

“Lou, have you been here all day?” His voice is thick with concern.

“Yes.” He grumbles, knowing Harry always sees right through his lies anyway.

“Why didn’t you go to work?” The bed dips with Harry’s weight, and Louis’ skin heats up where his gentle touch meets it.

He groans and struggles to flutter his eyelids open as he rolls over to look up into sparkling emeralds. Harry’s curls fly free around the white roses nestled in them, and roses in his hair are Louis’ absolute favorite, so he sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes to get a better look. He still feels sullen and heavy and lethargic though.

“I was still tired this morning. I took a nap after you left and just… got carried away, I guess.” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal and really, it isn’t, but Harry seems distressed anyways.

“You slept all day?” He asks, incredulously.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” Louis gets defensive.

“Nothing, except the fact that you also slept all night.” Harry says, reaching out to graze the back of his hand against Louis’ cheek. “I could understand if you were up late and only got a few hours, but…”

“Maybe I _was_ up all night.” Louis crosses his arms and sticks out his bottom lip for tactical cuteness as he attempts to steer the conversation away from his sleeping patterns. “Maybe I’m secretly a masked vigilante and I sneak out while you’re asleep to keep the city safe and last night was really busy, so I’m knackered.”

Harry cracks a stupidly wide grin. “Really, what’s your superhero name? Captain Gumdrop?”

Louis pouts at the nickname he’ll never be able to escape from. “Fuck off. I can’t you tell you what it is, my identity has to stay a secret.”

“Why? MJ knew who Spider-Man was.” Harry argues.

“He didn’t tell her though, she figured it out on her own.” Louis retorts.

“Catwoman knew who Batman was.” Harry tries again.

“Well yeah, but they weren’t just together sometimes, they worked as teammates too.” Louis denotes with a roll of his eyes. “Are you gonna dress up in a cat suit, start stealing jewels from high rollers, and be my occasional sidekick?”

“If it means you’ll let me into your secret world of back alley fights and masked glory, absolutely.” Harry sports a sly smile and brushes a lock of hair behind Louis’ ear. “Or, if you just wanna try something new in bed, I wouldn’t object to that either.”

Louis scoffs dramatically. “You’re trying to spice up our sex life already? I didn’t realize I was that boring.”

“Not even close.” Harry kisses the doubts right out of him. “I love you, and I love having sex with you.”

“For now.” Louis blurts, albeit quietly, but he still mentally curses himself for letting his insecurity show so easily.

“No, forever and ever and ever.” Harry exaggerates, kissing him silent again with so much fervor that he feels it in his chest and his stomach and all the way down to the tips of his toes.

“Do you want me to make you some dinner? You must be pretty hungry after that exhausting day of sleep.” Harry teases when they part, making him crack a reluctant smile.

“Yes, please. Anything but your creepy vegan stuff.”

“Hey, you said you liked it!” Harry protests.

“It’s still weird.” Louis maintains.

“Well, I’m not telling you what’s in any of it then. I’m just gonna cook you something and you’re gonna shut up and eat it or you can make your own food.” Harry pokes him in the side.

“I’d burn the building down if I tried.” He reminds him.

“Guess you’re stuck eating animal-free tonight. Should’ve learned to fend for yourself like a real adult.” Harry sticks his tongue out and dashes out of the room before the pillow Louis throws at his head can actually land.

The pessimism and dread fills him up again almost as soon as Harry is out of his sight. There’s really no good time to fall into a pit of despair, but this is possibly the worst, most inconvenient time ever because of how happy he knows he should be. He’s trying hard not to let it take over, but knows there’s nothing that can really be done and it’s only a matter of time before all he’s doing with his time is lying in bed and zoning out of life completely. Already, the idea of going to work tomorrow repels him. He’s not even sure if he wants Harry around right now, honestly, because even though he does love and adore him more than anyone, the silent solitude of his room and the absence of pressure to seem okay around people is more inviting.

He somehow makes it through dinner and the rest of the night without Harry questioning his mood, even though he knows it must be obvious to him. He can feel himself slowly slipping into nonexistence; withdrawing from conversations, giving curt, choppy answers to everything and staring off into space for a bit too long for it to seem normal. He can tell that even Zayn and Liam notice something’s wrong, though they don’t mention it either.

At this point, he’s not even asking to actually feel good anymore. He just wants to at least be able to fool everyone into thinking he’s alright, just to spare them the trouble.

-/-

The next day, Harry can tell Louis’ still stuck on whatever’s been plaguing him lately. It’s something in his expression that gives it away; it probably wouldn’t even be obvious to someone who hasn’t spent hours memorizing the angles of his features, but he’s missing the slight upwards tilt of his lips, like he’s constantly hiding a juicy secret from the world and knows he’s always one step ahead of everything, and there’s blandness in his eyes. Harry remembers telling him once when they were drunk that the sparkle is gone, and yes, the light does still glint off that clear blue in a way that makes them shine outwardly, but there’s nothing behind it. It’s just haunting emptiness, like Louis could be on another planet right now and he wouldn’t even know the difference.

It hurts because he’s bursting with the knowledge that Louis is his and he just wants to kiss him all the time and shout from the rooftops that he’s in love and the world is grand, but it’s clear that the feeling isn’t mutual and the knowledge of that is a dagger right through his heart. Rationally, he knows now that it’s Louis’ depression making a rapid reappearance and hates that something so horrible could even exist in the world, something that’s capable of draining the life right out of the most vibrant person he knows, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it except try to take care of Louis in whatever way he needs and hope it passes soon.

He wishes Louis would at least talk to him about it so he could properly comfort him, shoot down whatever bad thoughts this monster’s putting in his head, but Louis still doesn’t know he found the pills and Harry won’t be the one to trap him into that conversation. He wants Louis to just feel comfortable enough to open up on his own.

He’s also slightly worried it might have something to do with him too, like maybe Louis is having second thoughts about being with him already and if that’s the case, then he just wants to be a good boyfriend and show him this is worth it. Rocking the boat isn’t something he can afford to do if he wants to accomplish that, so he just lets his own insides burn to ashes with the helpless ache of watching Louis be devoured alive right before his eyes.

“Your bed head is insane.” He teases over breakfast, and Louis does crack a small smile that makes him feel triumphant.

“Have you passed a mirror at all this morning?” Louis counters. “You’ve got petals all squished in yours.”

“You need to start reminding me to take off my flowers before bed.” Harry huffs, reaching up to pick a few of them out.

“I like when they fall on me while we have sex.” He admits, absently sipping his tea.

“Really? I’m always a bit embarrassed by that.” Harry feels his face flush. “I keep trying to brush them off.”

“I know.” Louis says. “But for future reference, don’t worry about it. I think it feels nice.”

“Noted.” Harry smiles at him and he tries to give one back but it’s too flat to be real. The crinkles don’t even come close to touching his eyes and it’s devastating to notice.

They lapse back into silence, the only sound between them are the forks scraping against their plates. He can tell Louis is lost in thought and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Should he just leave him alone and let him disappear into his head? Distract him with conversation, or try to make him laugh? It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference what he does either way, so maybe just acting normal is the best option.

“Are you okay?” This time Louis is the one checking on him.

“Me? Yeah. I’m great.” He assures.

“You’re not talking much.” Louis observes.

“Neither are you.” He returns.

“Yeah, but you’re you.” Louis says. “You’ve always got things to say.”

“Sorry. Guess I just kinda spaced out for minute.” He leans over for a kiss and even that’s not the same. Usually, he can feel Louis’ breath hitch and he’ll lean into it, giving something just as fiercely passionate back, but today it’s a whole lot of nothing. Just nearly unresponsive softness that rips through Harry like a piece of fabric accidentally caught on a hook or something, sharp and quick and enough to ruin the whole day.

Weeks pass and he learns that it’s just how things are sometimes. Sometimes Louis is sad and Harry isn’t and they don’t talk a lot, but Louis knows Harry’s there and he tries to convince himself that’s the important part. Sometimes Louis stays in bed all day and Harry cooks him dinner when he gets home and they still smoke and cuddle and hang out, but Louis isn’t really there for any of it. Sometimes Harry comes home really late after nights out with other friends, but Louis doesn’t even seem to notice his absence either way.

He’s pretty sure Liam and Zayn and Niall know what’s up, but they keep up the charade around him too and that’s just as bad. He knows exactly what they know, that Louis is falling into a rut but no one fucking says anything about it (at least not around him) because none of them have any idea that he’s in on it too and he can’t let them know or they’ll tell Louis for sure and that might only upset him further.

Every now and then, there’s a day or a part of one where his Louis is back, all sunshine smiles and lighthearted sarcasm and it’s butterflies and rainbows and happiness because Harry’s been so deprived that having him be aware for even a couple hours is like the excitement of Christmas morning as a kid. Those days are few and far between though, so most of the time it’s just sleepy Louis and sad and mopey and blank Louis and increasingly desperate and discouraged Harry.

He’s even distracted at work lately, wondering if this is something Louis will overcome soon, or at all for that matter. He gets through his daily tasks; sets a bunch of kittens up with new loving families and it’s still just as heartwarming as ever. Then there’s the days he gets to spread happiness by helping people send flowers to their girlfriends or pick out some new plants for their gardens and it’s nice and makes him feel good, but mostly he just tries not to worry too much about Louis lying in bed feeling quite the opposite all day.

He feels like it’s wrong for him to even be at work when his boyfriend is legitimately sick at home. It may not be physical sickness, but he quickly finds that a sickness of the mind is actually just as bad, if not worse because there’s no simple remedy. Louis’ taking days off and not feeling like himself and Harry just wants to be there to take care of him all the time, but he can’t even do that for him and the guilt of it eats away at his insides.

It’s not just Louis’ burden anymore, it’s becoming his own, too. Granted, he’s still able to participate in life and take genuine enjoyment in things, but there’s always a sad echo to every smile and laugh that comes with the afterthought of wishing he could share it with the person he cares about most. Simply put, he misses him.

One night after dinner with his family, he gets home late to find Louis in bed already, but for once he’s not sleeping. The bedside lamp is on and he’s sitting next to it with his knees up and a book propped against his legs. He’s got glasses on and Harry’s never seen him wearing those before and fuck if it doesn’t make him want to choke on his cock.

“Lou, I didn’t know you wore glasses.” He beams with pride, glad to see him awake and aware and so cute in his little reading mode. “You look hot.”

“Just for reading, but thanks.” Louis absently acknowledges, still absorbed in the printed words.

He knows it’s rude to interrupt people while they’re busy, but he hasn’t talked to Louis since that morning and he actually seems relatively better somehow. The atmosphere around him isn’t thick with tension and disdain like it has been lately and Harry wants to take advantage of his moment of clarity, so he crawls into bed next to him and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“What are you reading?” He wonders.

“Gray, by Pete Wentz.”

“What made you pick that one?” He remembers Louis’ favorite genre is fantasy, so it seems an odd choice altogether. He’s heard of the book before, how it focuses on the bassist’s own depression and pill addiction, so it’s probably not the best thing for Louis to be reading right now. It worries Harry a bit, but then he considers it could just be something for Louis to relate to, and maybe that’s what’s making him feel better? Regardless, Harry’s interest is piqued enough that he’s definitely going to have to find out for himself what it’s all about whenever Louis finishes it.

“A friend recommended it.” Louis says simply.

“Which friend?” Harry asks out of curiosity.

“Like you know everyone I talk to?” Louis snaps.

“Didn’t mean it like that.” Harry resigns, keeping in mind that it’s not him talking; it’s just his natural defense when he’s in that state of mind.

“Is it any good?” He tries instead.

Louis shrugs. “It’s kinda weird, but I like the way it flows. It’s really lyrical and sort of… profound? I don’t know if that’s the right word. He’s not like, a grand philosopher or anything, but there are a lot of deep reflections going on. Mostly it’s just a bunch of whining about his ex-girlfriend though.”

“Ashlee Simpson?”

“Did they date?” Louis asks, and Harry affectionately rolls his eyes at Louis’ endearing cluelessness about pop culture. It’s a feat that he even recognizes her name.

“They were married for like two years. They have a son together.” Harry chuckles.

“Hm. That’s a weird pairing. I can’t see it.”

“I think that’s pretty much how everyone felt about it.” Harry agrees. “But you never really know what two people are like when they’re alone with each other.” He kisses the middle of the heart between the antlers on his bicep, and earns a small smile and a downward glance from pretty blue eyes behind black frames.

“It’s not her though, at least I don’t think.” Louis says, turning his attention back to the book at hand. “The girl in the book’s name is just Her with a capital H. They met before the band got big.”

“Don’t spoil it for me.” Harry complains. “I want to read it when you’re done.”

“You asked.” Louis points out flatly.

They settle back into silence and Harry reads a few excerpts since the pages are right there in his face, but mostly he just listens to Louis’ pulse in his ear, traces the outline of the tattoos on his arm, absorbs the silence and enjoys the private moment between the two of them. Louis is calm and content when he’s reading and it’s nice to see him like that for once, especially after all the exhausting sadness of the past few weeks.

Eventually, he folds the corner of the page and closes the book, takes his glasses off and sets both things down on the nightstand.

“How was your day?” He wonders, making a show of settling in under the covers.

“It wasn’t the best.” Harry answers honestly.

“Why’s that?” Louis’ eyes are still vacant, like he’s staring off into the space behind Harry’s head instead of actually looking at him.

“I’m just…” He sighs, knowing this isn’t something Louis likes to hear, but desperately, recklessly hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him. “Worried about you.”

He’s right, Louis stiffens immediately and he wants to take it back right away, go back a few seconds in time and keep his mouth shut because maybe absent Louis is somehow better than upset and uncomfortable Louis.

“Don’t worry about me, Haz. I’m fine.” He assures.

“I know what fine means, Louis.” Harry refutes. “And I know what you’re like and how you behave and you’ve not been acting normal lately.”

“Well, I am normal.” The edge is starting to leak Louis’ voice.

“This is normal for you?” Harry challenges. “Missing work and staying in bed all day and barely even talking to anyone?”

“Yeah, Harry, it is normal for me.” He hisses opposingly. “Sometimes I just get lazy and I need to be left alone and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how I am. Sorry it’s not what you expected.”

Harry sighs, knowing Louis is intentionally twisting the truth and he’s not going to get anything out of this unless he approaches it the right way.

“Lou, you don’t have to tell me what the problem is, but can you at least tell me if there’s any way to make you feel better?” He’s careful to keep his voice gentle and placid so it can’t be misconstrued as vicious. “It’s—It kills me to see you like this. You’re like a zombie. What can I do?”

“I am not a zombie.” Louis sounds offended.

“Really? Do you remember what we did Tuesday night?” Harry prompts, and Louis hesitates, trying to think back on it. When the quiet “no” slips from his lips, there’s a splinter through Harry’s heart.

“It was our first real date, you know.” He reminds him. “I took you out to dinner and you told me you enjoyed yourself, but you hardly even looked at me and barely even touched your food.”

“Cause it was probably some weird, hippie vegan restaurant.” Louis hassles.

“No, it wasn’t. It was a normal restaurant that was nice enough that I actually had to wear shoes.” He tries to stay calm, but Louis is such a sassy little shit sometimes and it’s hard to stay nice and understanding when he isn’t being that way either.

As if to prove his point, Louis’ next words are a snappy remark.

“So you’re upset because I didn’t notice you put on some fucking shoes for once?”

“That’s not what this is about, Louis!” He can’t help the frustration from raising his voice a bit, but he dials it down again when he sees Louis’ agonized expression. It’s not about hurting him either, he reminds himself, letting go of a deep sigh and trying to gather his thoughts before he continues. “It’s… you’re not even like, _here_. You just told me you can’t remember our first date. Do you know what that does to me?”

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m…” He apologizes immediately and hesitates right after and Harry thinks maybe he’s finally ready to admit what’s actually going on, but all he says is, “I’m trying.”

“What does that even mean? Since when do you have to _try_ to be with me?” His irritation with the situation is starting to take control now and he’s afraid he’s going to end up saying things he doesn’t mean soon, but it doesn’t help him hold back at all. It’s all just pouring out now. “I didn’t realize… I mean, if this is how it’s gonna be between us, I don’t know anymore.”

Louis jumps to a conclusion. “You’re seriously breaking up with me already?”

“No, and believe me, that’s the last thing I ever want to do. I’m just saying, so far things were better for us when we were just friends.” He confesses, and he didn’t even know that’s really how he felt about it all until that slipped out and it’s like wings have sprouted from his back and carried him away from the eggshells underneath his feet.

“Stop threatening me. If you don’t want to be here, just fucking go.” Louis’ voice is acid, but he knows that’s just the pain behind it so he won’t give in.

“I’m not threatening you, Lou, will you just listen to me?” He pleads.

Louis huffs, but doesn’t say anything else, just waits for Harry to continue.

“I want you back. I want you to be with me for real. I was so happy when we got together, I couldn’t even contain it.” Harry’s voice cracks as he recalls the very beginning. It’s still the very beginning, honestly, and it worries him that they’re having this much trouble already. “But you just keep getting sadder and sadder and now I’m starting to wonder if you even want this at all, because it’s obviously not making _you_ happy.”

Louis melts at that, instantly shooting the idea down with ferocity. “No, please don’t ever think that. This has nothing to do with you, or us. I do want this and I’m so glad I have you. I love you and I’m happy we’re together, really. I am.”

“Then why are you acting so upset?” He asks, desperate for a solution. “Just tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it, please. _Please_ , I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. I don’t want to lose you, Louis. I can’t. I love you so much.”

“It’s everything, Harry!” Louis shouts, rolling onto his back and reflexively pulling at his hair. “It’s not anything that can be fixed because fucking everything is wrong. It’s just life and like, it all feels like a waste of time and I can’t fucking think about anything else except _what am I doing_? I go through the motions of living but I don’t fucking understand why! What’s it doing for me? At the end of the day I still feel so fucking empty and I know I shouldn’t because I have you, and I have my friends and family and everything’s fucking perfect right now and I should be enjoying it, but for some reason I just _can’t_. I hate it as much as you do, but even I don’t know how to make it stop.”

He’s honestly speechless. He usually has some kind of uplifting words stored away, anything to make Louis feel better, but this time he doesn’t know how to quell that.

He’s heard about depression before and what it does to people, but until now he’s ever experienced it second hand himself or really got into talking about it with someone who has it. Even with as bad as things have gotten in his own life before, he’s never, ever considered it all to be completely pointless. Never felt truly empty like Louis is telling him he feels.

This is good though; he may not have actually come out and said _I’m depressed_ , but he’s finally fucking talking about it for once and Harry wants to know everything, exactly what it’s like and what he’s going through, no matter how shitty it sounds or how much it pains him to listen or how helpless he feels against it. He knows Louis well enough to realize he isn’t finished, so he just waits patiently for the rest to come and tries to formulate any combination of words to appease him.

“I look at the people around me, like you and Niall and Zayn and Liam and Ashton and like, fucking everyone. You all seem so happy with it. You just do these things every day like work and run errands and hang out with friends and just these normal everyday things and it’s actually enough for you guys and I can’t help but wonder what’s missing for me, why isn’t it enough to make me happy?” Louis continues, rambling to the ceiling, too clearly afraid to look him in the eyes.

“Why is it that every time I do something all I feel is more emptiness, like, okay, yeah, I helped a customer but so what? It’s not like I made some huge impact on their life by just doing my job. And I just constantly think these negative things about every little task I do, like, ‘Cool, I dropped off the rent this morning. What an accomplishment.’” He even thinks in sarcasm, apparently. “And yeah, I enjoyed sitting here tonight, just reading with you by my side. I like doing anything with you, but I just keep wondering _what does any of it matter?_ ”

Okay, that’s a punch right in his gut and feels the tears threaten to spill out and fuck, no, he’s not going to cry. He has to hold back because Louis looks on the verge of tears too and he will not make himself look weak in front of him when he needs him to be strong right now.

Louis spills more, babbling the last of the bad thoughts out of his head. “It’s so stupid because I know I’m ruining everything for myself with those thoughts, but I can’t control it. It’s just always in the back of my mind that I’m gonna fall asleep tonight and then get up and do it all again tomorrow and that’s it, that’s my entire life. That’s all there is to it, just these mundane little events over and over every fucking day until what? The day I die? That terrifies me. I don’t want to do this forever. I can’t.”

Harry waits a couple beats, just to be sure he’s finished, and then he reaches out and grabs his hand to talk him through it. He’s still not sure he has anything helpful to say, but just lying there without saying anything would be infinitely worse, so he has to try. For Louis.

“Lou, everyone else isn’t secretly bursting with joy every second of every day, you know. You’re not missing out on some grand secret to being happy.” He soothes. “That’s just what life is. It’s not supposed to be exciting every minute, sometimes it’s hard and boring and sometimes you fall into a routine but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad one. You just learn to find enjoyment in the good things, like spending time with the people you care about or making someone smile or… reading a book in bed with your boyfriend.”

“I know.” Louis sighs, deep and long and it’s audible in his voice that he’s exhausted from his tirade. “I know, that’s part of the problem, too. I mean, if this is what life is all about, then I’m not entirely sure I even want it anymore.”

“Don’t joke about that. It’s a serious issue.” Harry’s earnest and automatic.

“Does it sound like I’m fucking joking right now?” Louis raises his voice and turns to look at him with feral blue and he recoils.

He had no idea it was that bad. The thought of Louis ever seriously killing himself… he can feel the tears stinging the back of his eyes again. He doesn’t even want to imagine that. A world without Louis is a world he’s not sure even he could survive in.

“I’m sorry.” Louis retracts, eyes softening with the notice of his crushed expression. “I know this is hard to hear and it probably doesn’t make any sense to you, but it’s just… it’s suffocating, Harry. I feel like no matter what I do there’s no significance to it and I just keep wondering how everybody else can live this way and not feel like just fucking giving up. It’s… really hard for me to not give up.”

“There is significance. You’re significant to me.” Harry argues, but it’s quiet and weak. He’s distracted by the excruciating revelation that Louis is in so much pain he’s wishing he were dead on a daily basis. What do you even say to fix that? He gets the feeling there are no words. He can’t think of any, anyway.

“I know.” Louis sighs, sounding tired and defeated.

“I don’t want—” Harry starts to say, but he’s not even sure where he’s going with this anymore. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, has no idea how to deal with this. “Is there anything I can do to make it worthwhile?”

“No.” His answer is blunt and piercing. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s not your job to fix me, it’s just this personal shit going on in my fucked up head and I don’t want you to ever feel like any of it is your fault. I love you so much, and you being sad for me only makes me feel worse.”

“You know I can’t just _not_ be upset when I see you are.” Harry counters.

“I know.” Louis sighs again.

They’re silent for a long time, and Harry pulls him in to fit right into the crooks of his arms and Louis tucks himself into his chest. Harry pets his hair and kisses his head a few times, because Louis is right. He can’t fix it, there’s nothing he can do to help except just be there to comfort him like this when he needs it, and since he can’t ignore Louis’ sadness and it hurts him too, they’re just going to have to suffer together until he gets better.

“Have you ever tried to give up, Lou?” He breaks their silence with the question that’s been nagging at the back of his mind since Louis mentioned it. “I mean, have you ever…”

“What, tried to kill myself?” He finishes harshly. Harry gives a timid nod and just like that, Louis withdraws again.

“I’m not talking about that with you.” He snaps, wiggling out of Harry’s grasp and turning away.

He takes that as a yes; what else could it be? If the answer was no, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying so. It makes Harry’s stomach twist and he’s hit with the anguish of wishing he could protect younger Louis from hurting himself just as much as he wants to protect his Louis from the same thing, but he can’t and that’s the most frustrating part about all of this. It’s sadness and helplessness and frustration, so much fucking frustration.

“That’s not fair. You can’t just shut down in the middle of a conversation and close the subject like that.” Harry objects. It took him this long just to get Louis to open up about everything and now he’s panicking about being shut out again. Who knows how long it’ll be before this happens another time? Maybe it won’t ever happen, if Louis is feeling so intensely about this right now and already has at least one suicide attempt under his belt and no, Harry can’t even let himself think about that right now. He’ll cry for sure.

“I can do whatever the hell I want, Harry, you’re not my fucking mum.” Louis reaches over and turns out the bedside lamp and a curtain of darkness falls heavily over the room.

“Louis, I—”

“No, I’m sorry I said anything. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” He mutters under his breath and it’s a sword shoved down Harry’s throat, sloppily slicing and leaving him bleeding and speechless. “I’m going to sleep now, and you should too. Goodnight.”

He settles in under the blanket and flips over on his side so his back is facing Harry. Normally, he’d cuddle into him, drape his arms over his torso, fit his knees into the crook of Louis’s, nuzzle his nose into the back of his head and fall asleep with the warmth of him nearby. But he can feel Louis’ bad mood and harsh voice left hanging thick in the air and he knows that’s not going to happen tonight.

So for the first time since they’ve been together, Harry turns his back to Louis, too, and just tries his best to be okay because at least one of them has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading and please leave me some words to make me happy :)


	14. And all I ever wanted was to be understood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you bunches and please keep the comments coming, i really love hearing from you all! :) enjoy xx
> 
> **tw for more talk of suicide. tread carefully, my dears.

He should be used to waking up to an empty bed by now. Harry hardly ever wakes up later or even around the same time as him, but every morning when he rolls over to grab at nothing but empty space, he panics. Especially this morning because after their conversation last night, the way he’d told him exactly what it’s like to live in his head every day, how he’d yelled at him and put up the walls again when he wanted to know more, surely Harry’s realized what an awful mistake he’s made by now and bolted.

Yet when Louis drags himself into the kitchen that morning, there he is; all curls and bare skin, cooking breakfast and humming a little tune as usual.

It’s probably strange to still be so awestruck by the sight of him after all this time, but he seems to get more and more magnificent with every passing day. His skin littered with tattoos, golden summer tan starting to fade with the changing weather, each little contour of his muscles and their light flexes in response with his movements, the curve of his bum and those legs that stretch for days.

Something about him is even more enticing this morning. Maybe it’s that he knows now why Louis can barely drag himself out of bed most days and doesn’t even bother trying on others, and for some reason he still chooses to stay.

Harry turns to greet him with a smile and a kiss on the forehead before turning his attention back to the stove and in that simple moment, Louis realizes it’s about time he stopped moping. It’ll be a difficult task; he can’t just turn off his depression with the flick of a switch in his head, but he can stop submitting to it so easily. Stop letting it keep him in a trance-like slumber even when his eyes are open, stop letting it interfere with his life and most importantly, stop letting it worry his ridiculously out-of-his-league gorgeous and wonderfully understanding boyfriend. Harry deserves someone who can appreciate him. Someone who can participate in their relationship, not a lazy sod that lies in bed all day and barely even acknowledges his presence, much less all the things he does to try lifting Louis’ spirits.

He suddenly feels awful at the truth of the realization. He should be making more of an effort to fight off the urge to crawl out of his skin and float off into non-existence, or at least stop letting it consume his entire life, if not for his own self, then for Harry.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts to Harry’s back, mind racing with all the things the apology should cover. Harry turns to face him again so he can look him in the eyes as he continues, “About last night. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe.” Harry soothes and that makes his heart drop right into his knees because of course it’s alright. He’s surrounded by people who constantly let him get away with acting like the biggest lowlife on the planet, just because they feel bad for him. He’s not sure if that makes him feel comforted or sick to his stomach at the unfairness.

“I was being an asshole.” He resolves.

“You sometimes are.” Harry acknowledges with a slight nod and a soft, fond smile. “But I love you anyways.”

His heart nearly flat lines with the words every time. It’s refreshing how easily the _I love you_ scome now that they’ve let it out; it’s so nice to hear and just as rewarding to say and it’s hard not to repeat it as often as they can.

“You sometimes are too.” He pouts.

“Oh, definitely. A massive one.” Harry admits easily, making Louis crack a smile of his own. “But you love me anyways?” He prompts, so Louis stands on his tiptoes to quickly bring their lips together in confirmation.

Harry runs his fingers through his mess of hair, pushes it back from his face to look him in the eyes, sincerity burning bright within sparkling emerald.

“I’m so sorry I can’t help you, I really am. I wish I could somehow make it better. It hurts me to see you like this, but if you say there’s nothing I can do, then I’ve just got to be here to make you smile like that.” He touches a finger to Louis’ lips and his eyes reflexively fall to the ground in response because the raw honesty and the amount of emotion behind his words is unsettling, however heartwarming it may also be.

“You really still want to be with me, even though I’m a useless little whiny bitch who can’t even show how much I appreciate you?” He breaks out of their embrace and wanders to the stove to see what’s on the menu this morning.

“You’re not useless, Lou, or whiny.” Harry argues. “You’re struggling, and you have a right to complain all you want. It’s better than holding it in all the time, yeah?”

He just nods a little. With how much of a fight he put up against letting him in, it’s a bit damaging to his pride to admit Harry was right, but he _does_ feel relieved to be able to have the heavy burden of bearing it alone somewhat lifted from his shoulders. Harry probably won’t ever be able to empathize, but he listens and tries to understand and that’s really all Louis could ever ask from him.

“Then just know that I’m here whenever you feel like you need to let it out again.” Harry reassures.

“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. I’m terrible. I missed our first date.” Louis remembers, feeling guilty again.

“A dinner date was a pretty lame idea anyways, I just wanted to get you out of the house.” Harry shrugs, returning to the pan to flip the food. “We won’t count it. We’ll go somewhere else.”

“Somewhere you have to wear shoes?” He teases.

“Do you want me to?”

“No. I like your bare feet.” He stares down at the tattoos on Harry’s ankles and smiles in genuine adoration.

“Really? I wasn’t aware that you had a foot fetish.” Harry smirks. “That’s dirty, Lou. I like it.”

“I only have one for yours.” Louis happily plays along. It’s not a fetish, really, just a general liking of anything Harry related.

“Even better. That’s quite romantic.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from. You deserve to feel like a princess.”

“And the way to do that is through foot worship.” He loves when Harry turns on the sarcasm because it’s really not in his nature to be that way, but he’s just picked it up from their spending so much time together.

“You seem pretty pleased to hear it.” Louis says of the smile spreading his lips.

\--

His behavior does improve a bit after that. He’d let himself fall under the radar at work, distancing himself from the guys and making little effort to talk to the customers, much less flirt with them, yet when he goes in that morning and throws a piece of candy at Ashton’s back while he’s not looking and then innocently blames it on Calum (who’d long since forgiven him for his indescretion), a food fight ensues and everyone easily welcomes him back into the group without any questions.

Things get better over the next few days, but they’re not perfect. Putting on a smile again is always draining, so after work he collapses into bed and doesn’t feel up to much else. He tries not to be so grumpy though and it works enough that his friends seem satisfied, and all he wanted in the first place was for them not to worry, so that inadvertadly does make him feel a little better. They get high and share beers and watch tv together and hang out as usual, but Louis won’t leave the house and still doesn’t have the energy to care about things like cleaning up or doing laundry and he probably wouldn’t even be eating anymore if not for Harry’s constant cooking. Even the cupcakes and cookies he makes would go to waste without his beaming smile motivating Louis to finish everything off just to keep it there.

He’d slept through his last three therapy appointments, so that week he has some catching up to do and he spends the first hour of their session filling in his psychiatrist on what his relationship with Harry has been like and how his illness has been weighing him down lately.

“From what you’ve told me it sounds a lot like the two of you have been essentially living together as of late.” He observes after Louis finishes his spiel.

“I guess so, yeah.” Louis nods, heart skipping at the words  _living together_. He hadn’t really thought of it tin such concrete terms, but Harry does spend most of his time at his flat and stays over every night. He has a key to come and go as he pleases, keeps his toothbrush by the bathroom sink, his own shampoo in the shower, his clothes have started taking up space in Louis’ closet, and he even keeps the kitchen stocked with his weird vegan groceries. It is pretty much like he’s moved in already, and it’s a bit jarring to realize they’re so dependent on each other so soon.

“So then, how is he handling all of this?” The doctor wonders.

“He’s fucking perfect, as usual.” Louis admits, staring at a spot on the floor so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. “He takes care of me. He cooks and cleans and makes sure I shower and eat and go to work most days. It’s pathetic the way I need to be fucking babied or I won’t do anything except stay in bed all day, but he doesn’t even complain. I think he’s actually _happy_ to help.”

“Does he know what you’re going through yet?”

Louis cringes, remembering their pillow talk a few nights ago.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always noticed my bad moods.” He recalls. “But I didn’t tell him it was anything more than that until the other night.”

“And how did he react?”

“Like most people. He didn’t know what to say, but he tried to cheer me up anyways.”

“How did that make you feel?”

Louis sighs, hesitating. That’s his least favorite question to be asked, but it comes up so often in these sessions and maybe that has something to do with why he hates this place so much. The stuffy room, the analytical posters on the wall, the stupid fucking cliché lounge chair that he refuses to lay on, and the equally stupid fucking clipboard the guy clings to and jots things down on while Louis rambles might also be big contributing factors.

“Loved, in some way, I guess.” He manages. “It felt like he cares, but I knew that already, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything that would actually help.”

“How’s that?”

“Because no one ever does.”

The doctor nods and Louis kind of wants to punch him in the face because it’s like he’s proving the point he just made that no one knows what to say. Even trained professionals are at a loss for words.

“Do you feel like talking to him about it has helped improve the dynamic between the two of you?” The doctor presses.

“Yes and no.” Louis shrugs. “It’s… I feel better now that he knows, but… he also wanted me to talk about when I tried to kill myself and I basically told him to fuck off. I think he’s still wondering, but he won’t dare to ask again, so it’s just become like this unspoken thing. I’ll catch him staring at me every now and then, but if I ask what it’s about, he’ll just tell me I’m pretty or whatever to cover it up.”

“It’s not normal for him to compliment you?”

“No, it is. It’s the way he stares that’s weird.” He explains. “It’s like he’s worrying about me, not like he’s just admiring the view.”

“And why don’t you put those worries to rest?”

“I can’t.”

The doctor’s quiet for a minute, scribbling things down on the damn notepad while the second hand of the analog clock on the wall provides a metronome to fill the otherwise silent space.

“The reason you don’t want to let him in is because you’re afraid he’ll abandon you.” He says it like an accusation; he’s not asking for confirmation because he _knows_ that’s why and it makes Louis feel transparent and exposed. He probably shouldn’t think of his therapist as a total stranger after all the time he’s been seeing him, but it feels very much like an alien knowing him far too intimately. “But if he knows about your condition already and he’s still being the attentive boyfriend you’ve described, what makes you think that continuing to open up to him is a bad idea?”

Louis is quiet for a long time, considering. He actually hasn’t put much thought into why he still doesn’t entirely trust Harry even after everything they’ve been through so far and that’s another reason he’d be okay with never having to attend another therapy session in his life. It makes him ponder too much and encourages his brain to analyze things he’s not fond of thinking about.

“Because it’s just the beginning.” He finally answers after an impossibly long pause. “Of course he’s committed to the idea of sticking around now, but once people realize this isn’t just a temporary or every once in a while thing to deal with, they aren’t so understanding anymore. It gets tiring and they give up.”

“Your flat mates have been with you through it all.” The doctor reminds him. “And your family.”

“My family doesn’t have much of a choice.” Louis scoffs.

“Ah, but they do.” He refutes. “Families abandon each other all the time. They could choose to cut contact with you tomorrow if they felt so inclined.”

Louis doesn’t want to talk about families because he’s right. They love him and they want to help him and he feels guilty again for being so selfish and too absorbed in his own world and his own problems to even remember to call anymore.

“The same is true for your friends.” He continues, “And I say this not to scare you, but I’m just not quite understanding what it is you’re so afraid of when you seem to have such a strong support system who’ve been so loyal to you all this time.”

“Because they’re just what’s left of it!” Louis argues. “I used to be, like, popular or whatever. In high school. I had tons of friends and I was always busy and people actually liked me, but then I got like this and I didn’t want to go out or do anything anymore so they all just stopped caring and left me. I tried to talk to some of them about what was happening, but it turns out no one actually believes mental illnesses are a real thing. They may as well have just laughed in my face.”

His outburst earns him more silence and clipboard scribbling.

“There’s no way to know for sure how long somebody’s going to be a constant in your life, Louis.” The doctor offers when he’s finished with his notes. “Even if you’re absolutely sure right now, time changes things and there’s no telling what the future will hold. Life rarely happens the way we expect it to.”

Louis just stares at him, thinking _no shit fuckwad, that’s exactly what I just told you I’m afraid of_   but even he has enough sense to know when to keep his mouth shut sometimes.

“You trust that your other friends and family will continue to be there, and now it’s up to you to decide if Harry is worthy of that same privilege.”

The words stay stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

\--

Here’s what he missed while he’s been lost in his head the past few weeks: Liam quit his job to work with Zayn at the tattoo shop because apparently he’d been promoted to store manager slash head artist and therfore granted hiring powers, and Niall did end up finding a girlfriend; an equally perky and fun blonde called Emma, who’s cool enough to let him throw Zayn’s congratulations party at her house while her parents are out of town for the weekend.

Louis really doesn’t feel up to partying, but it is in Zayn’s honor and Louis would count on him being hurt if he didn’t show up. It’s free booze and he did make a promise to himself to try harder for the people he cares about, so he figures he can miss one night of staying at home avoiding social interaction if it’ll make his best friend happy.

It turns out to be a tattoo party of some sorts. It probably wasn’t intended to be that way considering Niall’s the host and his skin is as unmarked as a newborn baby’s bottom, but all Zayn’s work friends show up and just happen to bring along their equipment. Apparently pot and liquor stirs something inside artists that makes them feel inspired or whatever, so once they’ve all got enough in them, the main room fills with the buzz of needles as people line up to get stupid and sloppy designs engraved on their skin that most will probably regret in the morning. Why anyone thinks mixing tattoos with intoxication is a good idea will never make sense to him sober, but of course while under the influence it seems harmless enough.

“Louis, let me do you next.” Zayn urges as he wipes clean the tramp stamp he just finished on some random girl in his chair. Louis is curled up against Harry’s side on the couch in the room, the familiar heavy arm draped over his shoulder as they watch on and admire his craft. Liam and Niall aren’t as interested in the art so they’re off somewhere else doing god knows what.

“Fuck no.” Louis immediately refuses. “After last time? Exactly how drunk are you that you think I’ll agree to that again?”

“Please,” He presses on as he busies himself dressing his latest masterpiece. “Please, just a little one. I promise I won’t fuck it up.”

“No. Stay away from me.” Louis is adamant.

“C’mon, I’ve gotten better. I’m a proper professional now. Run my own shop and everything.” He beams.

“Yes, and I’m very proud of you for it.” Louis assures, “But you also don’t get smashed before you go into work.”

“You saw what I just did on her.” He offers, just as he finishes covering it and sends her back off into the crowd of partying drunks.

“It was lovely.” Louis admits, but he’s also got his fair share of drinks sloshing around in his stomach, warping his vision, so he doesn’t even trust his own judgment.

“You still want that sparrow like Harry’s? Let me do it.” Zayn blurts and Louis stiffens under Harry’s arm because Zayn wasn’t supposed to let that slip. He’d just been toying with the idea out loud once, a couple months ago, and really no one was supposed to hear it because it’s so stupid and cliché and a generally bad idea to get a tattoo to remind you of a romantic interest because you’ll just end up wishing you could tear it off your skin when it inevitably goes to hell.

“Oops.” Zayn’s lips curl over his teeth and into his mouth as he realizes what he’s just said.

But Harry lights up at the mention and he looks down at Louis with eyes grown wide and glinting as his smile spreads just the same.

“Really, Lou? You wanna get matching tattoos?” He’s absolutely beaming at the idea of it and it’s so hard for Louis to ever tell him no when he gets like this about anything.

“I mean, I was just like, thinking maybe. Someday. I don’t know.” He shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal because Harry is so casual about his tattoos and doesn’t really understand what it means to him.

“Maybe now?” Harry presses.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Harry.” He hesitates.

“Why not?”

“I just… you never know, you know?” He looks down, thumb stroking over the tiny padlock on Harry’s wrist. “Like, I don’t wanna be stuck with something like that if… I mean, god forbid something happens between us and we end up falling out.”

“You don’t think we’ll last.” Harry frowns, brow furrowing in displeasure.

“Have some faith, Lou. You guys are perfect together.” Zayn helps persuade.

“Shut up, you just want the chance to ruin my skin again.” Louis waves him off.

“You call that ruined?” He gestures towards the brilliant cover-up. The one he did while he was _sober_ , that hid a drunken mess underneath.

“I’d rather not have to wait till the second try to be satisfied with the result.” Louis grumbles very pointedly and Zayn retreats because he’s not coherent enough to form a valid retaliation to that.

He notices Harry’s gone silent and pouty and he hardly ever gets that way so Louis is instantly concerned that he’s offended by his reluctance.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in us.” He lies a bit because it’s nothing personal. He does hope they’ll make it, but relationships are hard and there’s still that dammed fear hovering over him that Harry won’t be around forever. “You know me and tattoos. I can’t just get them on impulse like you.” He leans his head on his shoulder and kisses the soft skin of his neck in comfort.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve already been thinking about it a while…” Harry reminds him. “So maybe you could just consider it more, for me? It doesn’t have to be tonight, but I really like the idea. Something meaningful though, not the sparrows. I just got these cause they look cool.” He admits, and it tickles Louis inside to hear that he wants it to be one of the few on his body with significance.

“You really want it that bad?” He checks Harry’s eyes for sincerity and there’s nothing but when he answers.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” Harry nods. “I love tattoos and I love you, and even if for some reason we end up not working out, I know I’ll always care about you. So it’ll be a nice little reminder of our time together.”

How could he even attempt to deny him after that?

“Okay, let’s do it then.” He agrees.

“Really?” Harry seems genuinely surprised, but Louis is suddenly feeling good and reckless because he loves Harry too and his little speech made him choke up a bit and yeah, he wants it. A lasting reminder of Harry’s massive impact on his life.

“ _Really_?” Zayn seconds, just as incredulous.

“Yeah.” Louis nods, hopping up from the sofa. “I’m still not letting you anywhere near me with that thing, though. I’m going to find Ed.”

“But you’ve never let anyone tattoo you except me!” Zayn objects.

“Sorry, Z. You’ve had your privileges revoked. At least while you’re drunk anyway.” Louis waves him off as he disappears into the kitchen, searching for a beacon of orange hair. He wanders down hallways and into different rooms and just when he’s getting dizzy and about to give up, he opens a bedroom door and finds Ed in the dark with a topless girl straddling his lap.

“Oi, Ed!” He calls, not even caring about the scene in front of him. He’s just happy he finally found him and ready to get his Harry tattoo. “Come draw on me.”

“You’re serious, Lou?” It’s hard to see through the dark and the vodka vision but the tone of his voice is not cheerful in the least.

“Yeah, Harry and I are getting cheesy couple’s tattoos, so I need you to do mine.”

“Bit busy at the moment, sorry.” He dismisses.

“Who’s more important, your groupies or your friends?”

“Groupies.” Ed doesn’t hesitate. “So will you fuck off? You’re killing the mood.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have plenty more chances to get it in tonight. You can spare a few minutes for your oldest fans.”

“How many fucking artists are here right now? Find someone else to do it.”

“I’m picky.” Louis whines. “I won’t go to someone I don’t trust.”

“Fuck, Louis! I don’t have time for this right now. Get out!” Something comes hurling across the room but it only lands on the floor at his feet so he’s really got nothing to worry about.

“I think I’ll stay for the show, actually.” He pesters. “Take your time, I can wait.”

“Yeah, it’s gone.” The girl mutters a complaint and Ed groans in protest as she climbs off him and pulls her shirt back on. “Later tonight, when you’re not needed elsewhere?” She promises, leaning over to kiss his cheek and then dashing out of the room, staring daggers as she scoots by Louis and out the door.

“Look at that, problem solved.” Louis grins, earning a middle finger from Ed’s shadow.

“You’re a massive prick, you know. Cock block of the century.” He complains, shrugging back into his own shirt.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Louis curtsies and gets his hair ruffled as Ed strolls by next and leads the way back to the main room, where they find Zayn’s already in progress on Harry’s hip bone, just above the waist of his jeans.

“We didn’t even agree on anything yet.” Louis pouts, leaning over to inspect the work. It’s a small cluster of gumdrops, only outlined for now, but Louis automatically pictures the finished result, colored in pink and yellow and orange and green and covered in sugary sparkles.

“I knew what I wanted already.” Harry admits.

“You’re kidding.” Louis gripes, but there’s a smile playing at his lips.

“You love it.” Harry grins up at him from the chair, knowing that despite how he pretends to be annoyed by the nickname, he does love it. Loves that Harry’s deemed him deserving of his own special alias.

“I just hope _you_ do, it’s gonna be there forever.” Louis avoids the admission.

“You mean tattoos are permanent? Oh no, what have I done?” Harry cries dramatically and Louis punches him on the shoulder.

“Fuck off Lou, you’ll mess me up.” Zayn growls, returning the punch to his leg.

“It’s your own damn fault if you do.” Louis retorts. “If you’re as good as you say, you should be able to work under any conditions.”

“I can’t fucking draw on a moving target, dumbass.” Zayn spits. “That’s why I messed up yours last time anyway.”

“Do you know what you want yet?” Harry breaks up their brotherly spat, looking up at Louis with adorable green innocence as Zayn begins to work on filling in the colors.

“I didn’t, but after seeing that I do.”

“A crown, yeah?” Harry guesses, dimples jumping to life, and Louis nods. “I was hoping you’d pick that. Would you do a tiara instead?”

“Do you know me at all?” Louis laughs.

“Yeah, I knew it was a long shot, but I’m drunk enough that I had to ask.” Harry joins in with a chuckle. “I like the crown just as well though.”

“Alright, let’s get started then, I didn’t get pulled away from a good lay for nothing.” Ed orders as he starts up his own gun at some random’s abandoned station.

It comes out looking more like a crown for a prince than a princess, but the reference is all the same and no way in hell is he getting a girly fucking tiara inked on his skin forever. It’s just a small gold thing with five points and an emerald gem in the center, but Ed somehow brings it to life by including little details in the crafting, a glare from the shine, and added sparkles around the edges. The placement is the same as where Harry’s gotten his and as soon as Ed’s done, Harry’s already long finished and released from Zayn’s chair. He leans over Louis’ hip to get a better look.

“It’s perfect,” He marvels, lightly running his finger over the reddened skin, making it sting a little more.

“Thank you,” Ed grins in accomplishment as Harry inches closer and steals a quick kiss from the gem. His lips are soft and warm and it brings flutters to Louis’ tummy, but the soreness is also prominent.

“Ow, Haz!” He grumbles, despite the fact that he never made a peep during the actual tattooing process.

“Sorry, I had to. I just love it. I love you.” Harry’s so excited that he moves up for a kiss on his mouth this time, full of adoration as large hands engulf either side of Louis’ face and force their lips impossibly closer. It deepens at an alarming rate, quickly turning urgent and needy as Harry licks into his mouth, tangles one hand in his hair and slips the other behind his back to pull his body in too. There’s magma in his veins and a spark of arousal in his belly when he realizes Harry loves it _that much_ and he kisses back with mirrored eagerness, easily forgetting about the other people around them.

“Okay, enough of that!” Ed barks, breaking them apart. “There’s plenty of rooms around for you two to find after I wrap this. We don’t need to see the gory details.”

“So Harry has a tattoo kink.” Zayn laughs, amused by the newfound information.

“Course I do, they’re fucking hot.” He admits easily, watching as Ed slicks the crown in medicine and covers it tight. Only once it’s completely out of sight do his lips find the shell of Louis’ ear and his voice is low and sultry as he whispers, “Thank you. Gonna wreck you in a minute, babe. Can’t resist. Love you so much.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Louis smirks, purposefully not addressing the rest out loud, giving Harry’s knee an approving squeeze of anticipation instead. He’d long since noticed that Harry liked to spend time on his tattoos in bed, but if he’d have known fresh ones were so tempting then maybe he would have gotten more a while ago, just to see him get this worked up over it.

“Just a reminder, keep it clean for a few weeks while it’s healing.” Ed pointedly glares at Harry.

“In other words, don’t fucking cum on it yet.” Zayn translates.

“Or kiss it or lick it, or whatever. Keep it covered and try not to even touch it until tomorrow, when you’re sober enough to take care of it,” Ed warns.

“Yeah yeah, we know. See ya later or whenever.” Harry helps him up from the couch and walks them out of the room, hands kneading Louis’ arse and nibbling at his ear all the way, telling him how hot he is and how he’s going to make it hurt to walk in the morning and Louis’ getting obscenely hard already and just as impatient to find a vacant bedroom to hole themselves up in for a while.

They’re relentless when they finally get to one. Harry slams the door shut and kisses him into the wall, hands clambering underneath his clothes, yanking them off within seconds. He goes right for Louis’ cock, expertly sucking and hardly even gagging as he takes him in to the back of his throat and refuses to stop or slow, craving as much as he can get. Louis forgets how to do anything except hang on to Harry’s curls and try not to come too quickly, but damn those fucking lips and that fucking tongue and the way Harry loves it so much he hardly has time to look up to see how Louis loves it just the same.

Harry lets him finish in his mouth and swallows every last drop, instantly switching to snogging him again after and Louis can still taste himself on Harry’s tongue. He lifts him in the air and Louis wraps his legs around his waist and lets himself be carried to the bed. Harry’s greedy tonight, so turned on his lips and hands don’t miss an inch of Louis’ skin. Even though he’s sensitive from having just came, Harry slicks his fingers and stretches him to near release again, whispering praise about his beauty and promises of how he’s going to absolutely destroy him tonight, earning eager little whimpers in response.

To no surprise, Harry follows through, undoing him completely with a series of strong, hard trusts from behind as Louis clutches the sheets and buries his face in a pillow. Harry grips his roots and pulls his head up so he can hear him cry for more, still pounding into him, living for the desperate breaths and moans of encouragement, the brilliant sound of his own hand smacking prints into Louis’ fucking delicious arse. He presses his fingers against the bandage on his hip often, providing a painful yet pleasant sting in time with his practiced thrusts, and accidentally discovering Louis’ own hidden kink as well (and honestly, that can probably be attributed to Harry’s obsession with it, because anything that can turn him on enough to go for two rounds of raucous animal sex is more than okay in his book).

When they’ve finally had all their bodies can handle for the night, Louis drapes himself over Harry’s chest in a sticky mess and they get quiet as usual, happy to just cuddle and bask in the afterglow.

Harry’s hands find his back, tracing up and down his spine as he just listens to the steady sound of Harry’s heart against his ear and eventually gets to thinking about everything. His therapy session is stuck in his head; blurry, alcohol-clouded words about support systems and trusting people and most importantly, trusting Harry.

It occurs to him that he’s stayed all this time, no matter how sad or snappy Louis gets and no matter how hard he tries to push him away, he’s still there and maybe it’s because moments like this are worth it to him. He’s not just enduring it all because he feels obligated, he genuinely wants to be there and Harry is so sure of him that he wanted a permanent reminder of his presence on his skin forever, and maybe it says something that Louis was willing to do it for him. That he wanted it for himself, too.

The doctor’s right that it’s impossible to tell how long something will last or how long someone will stay around, but Harry has proven over and over that he cares and that he has no intention of leaving anytime soon and Louis doesn’t want him to, and maybe he’s still a little too drunk to make this decision right now but as fucked up as it is, maybe alcohol is exactly what he needs to be able to feel safe letting him all the way in.

“Do you still want to know about my suicide attempt?” He blurts before he can stop himself.

Harry’s answering voice is quiet and cautious. “I won’t make you talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but this time I’m asking if you want to hear it.”

“Of course I do.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why?” Harry ventures right away. “I mean, I remember what you were talking about before… how this all seems pointless to you, but if that was enough reason then I’m afraid you wouldn’t be here right now. So what set you off?”

Louis sighs, a deep, tortured thing, thinking maybe he jumped the gun too quickly with re-opening the subject. He hasn’t talked about it in detail or even thought much about it in years, and it’s a bit jarring to have to relive it and find that the memories are just as vivid even while intoxicated.

“I was only fifteen, so I guess I just wasn’t used to it then.” He says, and Harry sucks in a shocked breath at the mention of his age but he keeps talking. “It was this new idea nagging at the back of my head all the time, and like, most of my friends were turning on me and people were talking about me and you know, school in general and disappointing my family and everything was just becoming too much and I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“But you did. You’re here.” Harry reminds him.

“Yeah, but it always feels like I won’t make it another year.” He admits. “That’s what I mean about, like, I’m just used to feeling this way now.”

They fall silent again for a moment and Harry’s voice is soft and hesitant when he asks, “How did you do it?”

Louis squints, remembering the twisting and ripping in his stomach, his racing heart and the nausea and terror and sirens, the cold hospital bed and all of it far too well. “I was dumb. I just swallowed a whole bottle of pills and drank myself sick.”

“What was that like?”

“Awful. God, fucking awful.” He says, and Harry instantly switches to petting his hair in comfort. “I think if I were to do it now, I’d go with something quicker. Crash my car into a brick wall or a log truck or something, make sure the cargo impales me. I’d have to do it just right to die instantly rather than end up putting myself in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, but I think it’d be the best option cause I couldn’t change my mind last minute and it would seem like an accident, like I just swerved to avoid hitting something in the road. I think that would make it easier on everyone when they found out.”

“This is something you’ve put a lot of thought into.” Harry notices.

“It’s kind of a daily thing.” He tries to seem nonchalant, sensing that it’s painful for Harry to hear about, but it turns out that talking to him is actually much better than therapy in the way that it’s so easy to just let this thoughts tumble out of his mouth without thinking when he gets on a roll.

“When you tried… I mean, did someone find you then?” Harry wonders.

“No, I panicked and called for help.” He admits. “It’s so stupid because I spend all this time wishing I was dead, but when I was shaking and sweating and crying on the floor I just realized _holy shit, I’m really dying right now_ and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Why?” Harry wants to know.

“It’s fucking terrifying. I know I shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of if it’s what I want, but I can’t quite place what it is that keeps me going every day and maybe it’s the same thing that scares me away from trying again.” He rambles on. “Maybe I still have a little bit too much hope left, even though it doesn’t feel that way. But I don’t actually _want_ to die, you know… it just seems like the only escape. I’d rather find something that makes me feel like my life is worth living.”

It’s silent for a long time as that hangs in the air, and he starts to worry again that he’s said too much and it’s too weird and creepy for Harry to handle and he’s thinking up his own escape plans, but then he speaks again and all of Louis’ fears suddenly seem silly.

“It seems selfish of me to ask you not to do it, so I won’t even go there, but—”

“Selfish of _you_?” He lifts his head up to look him in the eyes with awe. “You don’t think it’s selfish of me to want to kill myself in the first place?”

“Why would I think that?” Harry blinks, honestly confused by the notion.

“I just… all the people I would be hurting for my own freedom.” He points out.

“The fact that you think of it as freedom…” Harry’s eyes look deeply troubled as he lets out a heavy sigh. “I just want you to be happy, Lou. And like, if none of this is making you happy and you think you’d be better off… I mean, fuck, I’d miss you so much. I’d be a wreck without you, I know it. But you’d be at peace and that’s all I really want for you. You deserve it.”

This time it’s his turn to blink dumbly for a minute, honestly stunned, head whirling around from Harry’s fierce sincerity.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” He almost whispers. “Everyone else just guilt trips me. I know they mean well, but telling me not to do it because I have so much to live for and other people need me and blah blah, it makes me feel so… trapped.”

“I would never want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to.” Harry assures him. “I couldn’t ask you to stay here and be miserable just for me, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that for anyone else, either.”

It’s quiet for a long time before he finally lets the hushed “thank you” slip from his lips.

“Please don’t think that means I don’t care or anything. I hope you don’t do it, Louis. I really hope you don’t.” He kisses him with fervor intended to prove his words. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and it terrifies me that I could lose you at any minute… but I’m just saying, I get it. I get that you can’t control it and I get that just because _I_ think it’ll get better for you someday, doesn’t mean it’s easy for you to believe the same thing. I wouldn’t blame you at all if you felt like you needed to go. I would just miss you a whole lot.”

Louis lies his face back down against Harry’s chest so he won’t see the way his eyes start to well up with tears. Harry may not be able to cure his depression or make the suicidal feelings go away, but god, he makes him want to try his damndest to fight them off. Harry’s not always good with his words, but he didn’t judge or run away, just let Louis pour his heart out to him and there’s nothing he could’ve said to all of it that would have been any more perfect than letting him know he cares so much that he’s willing to give him the freedom to make his own decision.

“Don’t worry about me.” He promises softly, granting a kiss to the tip of the sparrow’s wing, and Harry wraps his arms around him and doesn’t loosen his grip all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter was actually really emotional for me. i hope you feel things because i feel a lot of things and i think this story is kind of destroying me in the best of ways ._.


	15. We've got a lot to learn, god knows we're worth it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terribly sorry about the wait! i've been absolutely swamped with work lately. again, thank you all for your patience and your wonderful comments <3
> 
> enjoy xx

“Harry, Harry! This way!” Daisy and Phoebe shout in unison, each one with their tiny hands gripped around his wrist on either side, pulling him in opposite directions.

“Harry, don’t you wanna see the pandas?” Phoebe coerces, yanking him towards the winding, uphill path carved through the artificial bamboo forest to the right.

“No, he doesn’t wanna see any stupid pandas. He wants to see the penguins, right Harry?” Daisy looks up at him with her wide child eyes, tugs his arm towards the big, blue, arrow-shaped sign that’s donned with pictures of penguins and seals and polar bears and points to the left.

The twins usually don’t like anyone outside of family, so it’s an incredible relief that they took to Harry so instantaneously. The moment he stepped out of the car that morning to meet Louis’ family for a weekend outing to the zoo, the girls caught one glance of the flowers in his curls and screeched with delight, running right up to him, gushing about how he looks like a princess and asking if they could try it on.

“I am a princess,” He’d said, shooting a dimpled grin Louis’ way before directing it towards the girls, and they giggled and squealed as he placed the oversized crown of white and lavender daises on Daisy’s head.

“Now I’m a princess,” She’d beamed, and when Phoebe whined that she wanted to be a princess too, he told her she already was one and placed an imaginary tiara on her head and she clapped and giggled again and it was love at first meeting.

“Stop, you’ll break him in half!” Lottie scolds them now as they play a relentless game of tug-of-war with his arms.

“It’s okay,” Harry laughs, bright and genuine despite the fact that he’s got a pair of bratty children fighting over him. “As much as I want to see the pandas _and_ the penguins, I vote we visit the petting zoo next. It’s just around this corner, I think.”

“It is.” Fizzy pokes her head out from behind the map she’s holding in front of her face and looks up at Jay for approval. “Right, mum? It’s just over there. I read it right?”

“You’re absolutely right, love. We’re right here, and the petting zoo is just a short walk over here.” She points to the spots on the map and Fizzy beams up at her, proud of herself for learning how to properly read maps today.

“Petting zoo!” The twins yell in harmony, before taking off towards the gated area.

“Girls, calm down! Stay with the group!” Jay berates, but they’re long out of earshot.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them,” Harry promises, flashing that trademark grin of his as he races after the two of them.

“Bless that boy,” Jay smiles, taking Fizzy’s hand as they all begin their much slower walk towards the next destination.

“For real.” Lottie agrees. “I don’t know how he does it. I was exhausted after just helping them get dressed and ready this morning.”

Louis’ guts are throwing a dance party inside him because his family likes Harry and Harry likes them too and it’s a nice day and he’s feeling good and things have been going so well lately that he would even go as far as saying he’s actually happy again. For now, anyways.

Two little blonde ponytails stick close to Harry’s side all day. At the petting zoo, he lets an admittedly endearing baby goat eat from his hand, and the girls watch on in awe and then demand a turn too. They giggle at the tickle of its tongue on their palms, and burst into a fit of laughter when a curious llama steals a bite of the flowers, back on Harry’s head now, and he almost loses a chunk of hair with it.

He takes turns letting one twin sit on his shoulders while the other holds his hand and skips along as the family roams the park and visits all the animals one by one, playing and laughing and joking the day away.

“Harry, you’re a giraffe.” Daisy says, looking down at him from above as they stand in front of the impossibly tall creatures, watching them graze on the leaves at the very top of the trees.

“Really? I’ve always thought of myself as more of a monkey.” Harry says.

“No way, giraffe!” She insists.

“And why’s that, exactly?” Harry wonders.

“You’re like thirty feet tall!” She giggles, twisting her fingers in his hair to keep her balance on his shoulders.

“And so cool and different!” Phoebe adds. “Like a giraffe. Nobody has a neck as long as a giraffe.”

“Yeah, but Harry has _legs_ as long as giraffe.” Lottie offers, making the whole group chuckle.

“What animal is Louis?” Harry wants to know.

“He’s a…” Phoebe and Daisy both take a minute to look Louis over, sizing him up as if they haven’t known him their entire lives. “A lion!” Their twin telepathy supplies.

“And why’s that?” Louis wonders.

“Cause you’re cuddly and sweet, but when you get mad, it’s scary.” Phoebe says.

“Louis is definitely a lion.” Harry nods in agreement.

“A lion and a giraffe wouldn’t make a very practical pairing in the wild.” Fizzy points out. “Louis would eat you alive.”

Harry smirks over at Louis because there is definitely an innuendo somewhere in there, but he won’t dare to say it in front of the girls. His eyes convey the message though and Louis can’t help the fond smile that spreads his lips at Harry’s silent allusion.

“He wouldn’t do that to me.” Harry refutes in favor of making a sex joke.

“Oh, yes I would.” Louis isn’t so modest in this case; loves the way Harry’s eyes harden, clearly pleading _not in front of your family_ , but Louis knows they won’t get it anyways. Their minds don’t live in the gutter like Harry’s does.

“I bet he’d be delicious, too. Just look at him.” He adds, knowing exactly how true it is.

“I think he’d taste like candy!” Daisy squeals.

Harry licks the back of his hand and deliberates for a moment. “Hm. I am pretty sugary.” He nods in serious concentration.

“Can I try?” Daisy ventures.

“Me too!” Phoebe chirps.

“Girls!” Jay scolds. “How very inappropriate.”

“It’s fine,” Harry assures with a smile, lifting the tiny child off his shoulders and setting her on her feet in front of him, next to her identical other. “But if you want a taste, you’ll have to catch me first.” He tells the both of them before quickly dashing off towards the exotic birds, and the girls giggle and run right after him.

“I got that, you know.” Lottie says to Louis as they fall into step a few feet behind Fizzy and their mum. “That whole eating bit between you and Harry. You’re filthy.”

“How do you even know the alternate meaning of the word?” Louis’ jaw gives a little slack and he can feel his face pink a little, hoping it at least went over the other’s heads.

“I’m _thirteen_ , Lou. I’m not a child anymore.” She rolls her eyes, despite the fact that thirteen is still very much a kid and she shouldn’t be so sexually educated.

“I’m almost afraid to find out, but please tell me you didn’t learn from experience.” He begs.

“Ew, no.” She scrunches her face up in disgust. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

“That’s a relief.” He wipes an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead.

“For me, too. Boys are gross. I don’t want to kiss them.” She says, and then it occurs to him for the first time that she really doesn’t talk about boys or romance ever. She has plenty of girl friends though, a fact that he suddenly can’t overlook.

“So you don’t like boys that way?” He investigates.

“I like Netflix and pizza.” She tells him, just as they reach the toucan habitat. There’s one close to the fence-box barrier and she leans over the railing to get as close as she can and wave at the creature. It cocks its head to one side and gives a little chirp and she flashes a smile.

“That’s very mature of you, miss ‘not-a-child-anymore’.” He teases, and she sticks her tongue out at him. “But it also doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t like anyone.” She shrugs. “Not boys and not girls either, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“It was.” He admits.

“Is sexuality genetic?” She blurts next.

“Is your preference for pizza and internet television genetic?” Louis counters, and Lottie’s face grows very serious as she nods in confirmation, cracking a smile only after he laughs.

“Seriously though,” She continues, “I’m just wondering cause like, some of my friends have boyfriends already and they’ve all had loads of crushes before, but I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel butterflies or whatever.” She sighs. “Is there a name for when you don’t like boys _or_ girls?”

“Asexual.” He provides.

“Hm.” She hums, considering for a moment.

“Try not to worry too much about it now, though.” He comforts, recalling his own sexuality crisis, which actually started somewhere around her same age, and how completely terrifying it can be to not have a handle on such a crucial part of who you are. “You’ll know what you like someday. It gets clearer as you get older.”

“How did you know you liked boys?” She wonders.

“I just…” He’s careful because regardless of how close they are, he’s simply not going to tell her about the time in tenth grade when Ryan from his math class ambushed him with a surprise blowjob in the bathroom and it was better than anything Hannah or any other girl had ever done for him and that’s the moment he was absolutely sure. “That’s a little different, cause like, I do get butterflies and stuff, it’s just that I only get them from guys instead of girls.”

She sighs. “Well, I don’t get them from anyone, so I guess I’m just a freak.”

“You’re absolutely not.” He says immediately. He likes that she came to him with her concerns on this issue, probably because he’s been there before and knows exactly what it’s like, but with how often she seems to be the one comforting him, it’s always refreshing when the tables are turned and he gets to be the wise older brother giving her the advice to guide her through life. “First of all, every sexuality is completely, one hundred percent normal. Some are just less common than others. If it does turn out that yours is different than most people’s, you shouldn’t ever let anyone, even yourself, convince you it’s weird or wrong, because it isn’t.”

He waits for her sincerely understanding nod to continue with his next point.

“Secondly, you may be past your childhood, but you are still young.” He thinks kids grow up too fast nowadays. There are girls her age that are pregnant already, so to say it’s a relief that she doesn’t have an interest in sex or even kissing or liking anyone is actually a huge understatement. “You shouldn’t worry yourself too much with dating right now, anyways. It’s just distracting. Consider yourself lucky you don’t have feelings for anyone, cause they suck.”

“But you and Harry are so cute and happy together.” She says.

“We are happy, yeah, and I love him a lot.” He agrees. “But that means I’m also terrified of losing him, and it means that when things aren’t going well between us, I’m upset, and it means he has the power to break my heart.” He involuntarily shudders at the absolute truth of it all.

“I’d kick him in the nuts if he ever did.” Lottie threatens.

“Thanks,” He laughs at the ridiculous image of her gangly little legs causing towering Harry to fall to his knees in pain.

“If anyone’s in danger of having their heart broken, it’s me.” Harry interrupts as he joins the two of them, poking his head over Louis’ and resting his chin in his hair as he wraps his arms around him. “Lou’s so cute, even his own sister wants to steal him away from me.”

“Hey, he was mine first!” Lottie pouts.

“I know, sorry you’ve got to share now.” Harry apologizes. “I can’t really blame you for trying to take him back, I would too.”

“I don’t actually mind sharing with you.” She admits. “You take care of him, so at least I know he’s in good hands.”

“That he is.” Harry reaches down to give Louis’ bum an affectionate little squeeze and Louis smiles coyly at the gesture.

“Well, I don’t want to share Harry with any of you.” Daisy wiggles herself in between their embrace, breaking the two of them apart so she can hug Harry’s leg. “He’s _my_ boyfriend now.”

“Is that so?” Louis patronizes. “And how do you figure?”

“I called dibs.” She says simply.

“You can’t call dibs on someone who’s already spoken for.” He argues.

“I just did.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Tell him, Harry. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Daisy, love,” He gently peels her off his leg and crouches down to get on her eye-level. “You know I think you’re grand, but my heart belongs to Louis.”

“But you said I’m cute.” She pouts her bottom lip out.

“He said I’m cute too!” Phoebe reminds her.

“Only because you look like me!” Daisy stomps her foot on the ground.

“You are both very cute little ladies,” He tickles them in their sides and they erupt into a fit of laughter. He lifts Daisy in the air and carries her on his hip when he tells her, “That’s why I’m sure you’ll have a boyfriend of your own someday. Someone even better than me.”

“But you’re the best. I want _you_.” She whines, burying her face in his chest. He looks over to Louis, eyes wide and pleading because he doesn’t want to have to be the one to hurt her feelings.

“Mum, Daisy’s trying to steal my boyfriend!” Louis tattles as a solution.

Jay just laughs in amusement at the situation, “A grown man relying on his mummy to save him from the big, scary four year old?”

“Hey, she can be vicious sometimes and you know it.” He defends himself.

Reinforcing his accusation, Daisy growls at him and hugs herself tighter against Harry’s chest and everyone laughs as they continue on through the zoo.

She’s actually very persistent about staking her claim on Harry; getting visibly jealous when he lends his flowers to Phoebe for the first time later that day, and whenever she catches his fingers entwined with Louis’, she pushes her brother away and grabs Harry’s hand in her own to walk with him for a while. It’s a bit of an annoyance because Louis likes to hold his hand, it makes him proud to be able to show him off to the world like that, (regardless of the occasional disapproving stares they get from onlookers) but they end up figuring it can’t hurt to let her pretend. Her crush on him is kind of cute anyways and they’re all having too much fun to let anything ruin it.

At the end of the day, once they’ve seen all there is to see and the sun’s painting the sky a collage of pinks and yellows and oranges, they say goodbye in the parking lot and she doesn’t want to let him go. No one does, really, but she actually starts crying and complaining and Jay has to apologize on her behalf, blaming it on crankiness from not having a nap earlier. The two of them get a big hug from the whole Tomlinson bunch, and then waves and a chorus of “Bye, Harry! Bye, Lou!”s as they depart to the car until next time.

“How was that? Do you think they liked me?” Harry wonders as soon as they’re both alone in his own car, on the way back home.

“Are you serious right now? They absolutely loved you.” Louis assures him. “Daisy wants to marry you, for christsake.”

“I know the twins liked me,” Harry beams in mutual adoration. “But how about Lottie? Your mum? Fizzy was so quiet all day.”

“Relax, Haz. They all approve.” He calms. “Fiz is just like that; she doesn’t usually have much to say, but she told me she thinks you’re fun. Lottie likes you a lot, cause you make me happy. And I think my mum is ready to hire you as a permanent nanny for the twins.”

Harry lets out a laugh. “Tell her I’d be happy to watch them free of charge if she ever wants a day off. They’re a riot.”

“More like a handful. It gets less bearable the longer you know them.” He says. “You know I love ‘em to death, but I’m kinda glad I’m not stuck with them every day anymore.”

“You don’t like kids?” Harry frowns.

“No, I do, the twins are just exhausting.”

“We’d make cute kids.” He beams, and Louis can’t help but crack a teeny smile at the idea that Harry is even thinking about him and kids in the same realm.

“Hate to be the one to break it to you, but that’s not actually possible.” He’s never really been much into the idea of having kids of his own someday, so it’s not a big deal to him that they can’t reproduce. His family is already big enough that he’d be happy building a home and a life of his own with just him and Harry forever.

At the same time though, if Harry does want kids of his own, then Louis would be just as happy to adopt and start a family with him. After watching him with the girls today, he’s absolutely certain that Harry would be the best dad on the planet.

“Obviously, I know that.” Harry looks sort of bummed at the reminder. “But I’m just saying, if we could, they’d be the best looking babies to ever exist. And they’d be nice and well-behaved, too. I mean, they’d still have fun of course, just maybe a tad less than the girls do. They are kind of bouncy.”

“You were excellent with them though.” Louis tells him. “You’d be father of the year, every year.”

“Besides you.” Harry claims.

“No, maybe when they get to like, Lottie’s age.” He disputes. “Even Fiz’s. I can handle them then. It’s when they’re young like that that it makes me want to just lay down for a while.”

“I kind of like little kids better. They’re so cute and much easier to entertain.” Harry says. “So I guess I’ll raise them halfway, then you can take over for the rest.”

“Deal.” Louis agrees, and they both grin at the simple possibility of a future together with children.

\--

Louis fusses with the key in the lock as Harry holds his hips steady and kisses all over the back of his neck, making his way upwards and around to nuzzle and nibble at his ear, breath hot and heavy and raising goose bumps all over his body. He almost breaks the door as he finally shoves it open and slams it shut behind them, eager to just get to bed and get undressed already.

The guys have gone out tonight so he wastes no time, turning to face Harry and mesh their lips together, and Harry pulls their bodies close, plays with handfuls of his bum. Louis reflexively grabs the back of his neck and hops up on him, hooking his ankles behind Harry’s back as he lets himself be carried, only a few steps before Harry sets him down on the kitchen table.

“Bedroom’s right there, Haz.” He breathes against his lips.

“Mmm, this is hotter.” Harry keeps up his kissing, going down to Louis’ neck again and pulling his shirt up and over his head so his mouth can roam his bare chest, too. Louis instantly melts into agreement, falling back, lying his torso flat against the table as his legs hang off the edge and Harry fits himself between them. He leans over Louis and glides across his collarbones with soft lips, nipping and licking at the elegant script inked on them while grinding their hips together and Louis’ breathing heavies as the arousal coils deep in his tummy.

Harry’s phone rings then, the grating Marimba tone snapping Louis out of whatever world he’s in. It plays through one whole time and Harry keeps kissing, working his way down to the crown on Louis’ hip, long healed by now, and Louis threads his fingers in Harry’s curls as he sucks at the design, leaving a new bruise over the fading one from a few days ago.

The tone starts over immediately after it finishes, but still Harry ignores it.

“You gonna get that?” Louis checks.

“Fuck no. Whoever it is can wait.” Harry mumbles against his skin.

“At least turn off the ringer. S’really distracting.” He complains.

Harry whines and pouts in protest as he reluctantly pulls away to grab his phone out of his back pocket and see who’s calling.

“Shit,” He visibly pales in the face as he stares down at the lit screen.

“What? Who is it?” Louis worries, propping himself up on his forearms when Harry starts to climb off him and the table.

“Nothing, it’s…” He hesitates, moving towards the door. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Harry, what—” Louis starts to object, but he’s already dashed into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

So Louis waits, instantly assuming something terrible has happened. What if there’s been an accident and someone’s in the hospital; Anne or Gemma? Or if they’ve been mugged and left for dead, or if someone broke into the house and is holding them hostage, or if the house caught fire? Or maybe it’s something less horrid but still frightening, like if they’re stranded somewhere and just calling for help, or it could even be something completely unrelated to the two of them; maybe any of the above scenarios has happened to a friend, or maybe he’s getting fired or fined for something like forgetting to pay a ticket. Harry would be the type to do that.

He’s gone for an impossibly long time, and every minute he doesn’t come back only increases Louis’ anxiety. He looked _scared_ when he picked up the phone, so it’s only natural for Louis to drive himself crazy worrying what could possibly cause that reaction.

When he finally returns, the color is still gone from his face and he looks sad and disoriented and Louis crowds him at the door, wondering who was calling and what for.

“It was Nick.” He says, and Louis is instantly furious. Just the name is enough to make his blood boil, but the fact that Harry left while they were fooling around to spend nearly an hour on the phone with his ex while Louis waited and worried, has turned him into an actual lion.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He curses. “Why’d you even answer it?”

“You told me to!” Harry defends.

“I told you to turn it off.” He snaps. “What the hell did he want anyways?”

“You know what he wanted. I—”

“Are you still fucking him?” He almost shouts, stomach lurching at the thought. “Don’t lie to me, Harry.”

“No, I’m not, I swear.” Harry answers immediately. “That’s the first time I’ve even heard from him in months.”

“Then why does he think it’s still okay to call you for a lay?” Louis demands. “Does he not know about me? Isn’t it like, proper etiquette to tell your fuck buddy when you’re in a relationship and it’s time to call it quits?”

“He does know about you.” He claims. “I mean, he didn’t know we were together until just now, but the last time I saw him, I told him I liked you and I tried to end it.”

“What do you mean you _tried_ ?” Louis fumes. “You should’ve just done it!”

“It’s not that easy, Lou.” Harry sighs. “He… He’s not good at taking no for an answer.”

“So what then, you tell him it’s over and he argues with you?” He guesses.

“Something like that, yeah.” Harry admits, fiddling with the hem of his shirt; nervously twisting his fingers around the fabric. “He’s not a nice person. It’s difficult.”

“Did he at least agree to leave you alone this time?”

“Sort of. He knows I don’t want him anymore, but he’s like, determined anyway.” He says. “I finally just had to hang up on him, but I don’t think he’ll be bothering me any time soon, at least.”

“I swear to god, Harry, if I find out you’re lying to me…” Louis starts to threaten, but Harry cuts him off before he can think of a proper way to finish his sentence.

“I’m not!” Harry raises his voice, a rare occurrence for him, and Louis sort of recoils at his anger. “Fuck, Louis, what the hell is it gonna take to get you to just trust me for once? I’m not cheating on you, I’m not going to leave you, and I don’t fucking lie to you. How can you even say you love me when you’re always second guessing every fucking thing I do?”

“That’s not fair.” Louis shrinks, choking up at the thought that his own insecurities have made Harry doubt his feelings for him.

“What’s not fair, me telling you how I feel for once?” He challenges. “It’s always about your fucking feelings, isn’t it? Never mind how I am, Louis’ upset so the whole world has to bend over backwards to make him happy again.”

Harry softens instantly, looking like he regrets the words, but they’re already out and Louis is too hurt to care. Harry knows how guilty he feels for burdening everyone with his depression, yet chose to use it against him anyways and it’s like a punch aimed right at his gut and a blade shoved right into his heart all at once.

“Fuck you, Harry.” He spits, “I never asked for anything from you. You’re the one who insists on acting like my fucking babysitter. I was doing just fine before you came along and I’ll be just fine whenever you decide to get fucking lost.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry retreats. “I’m so sorry, Lou. That was low. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes you did, asshole.”

“No no no no no, I didn’t. Please don’t think I did. I’m sorry.” Harry’s desperate. “I just got mad and it slipped out but I don’t mean it, really. I love taking care of you and I love making you happy.”

“Whatever, Harry.” Louis maintains. “Will you just go home? I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I am home.” His voice turns gentle and sweet, but Louis is having none of it.

“No, this is my home. I just let you sleep here too often.” He retorts. “But now I’m telling you to pack your things and get out.”

“You want me to move out?” Harry looks crushed; eyes sad and sorry, brow furrowed in distress, a frown gracing his lips.

“You don’t fucking live here, Harry! Go!” Louis yells.

“I won’t.” He stubbornly crosses his arms and stands his ground. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You always do this. We’re fighting. Couples fight sometimes, yeah? That’s normal, I always thought. So why do you always try to push me away when things start getting too real for you?”

“I don’t fucking know, what is this? Who are you, my therapist?” Louis is offended.

“No, I’m your boyfriend and I love you and I’m telling you that it hurts to know you don’t trust me and yet you just keep resisting.” Harry’s all bright eyes and soft edges and Louis is finding it hard to hang onto his anger.

“I trusted you enough to talk to you about things I’ve never told anyone else, and you just threw it back in my face.” He refutes. “So what the fuck makes you think that’s gonna help your chances at all?”

Harry pauses, takes a deep breath and lets out a long gust of air.

“I didn’t mean it, Lou. I’m happy to take care of you as much as I can and you _know_ that. Don’t act like you don’t.” He shoots him a fiercely pleading look and Louis falters, knowing it’s true. “It’s just frustrating sometimes. I feel like I do so much to try and show you that I care, but none of it makes any difference cause you’re still afraid I’m gonna leave or find someone else, or whatever. You just accused me of cheating on you, for fuck’s sake. What have I done to deserve that? I love you. I’m with you every chance I get. Where would I even find the time to see someone behind your back?”

Louis heaves a deep sigh too, feeling suddenly guilty. Harry’s right that he’s done nothing but be there for him and help out and try his best to make Louis’ life easier and how does he get repaid? With arguments and accusations and yes, Louis is trying to get better about it, but he does still shut him out sometimes, like a knee-jerk reaction.

“You’re right.” He resigns, keeping his head hung in shame. “You’ve been wonderful to me and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry… I just panicked. I always do. Of course I’m afraid of losing you, cause you don’t even realize you could do so much better than me. You’re so lovely and I’m so fucked up.”

Harry closes the distance between them and pulls him in for a hug and things don’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe he’s right about the fighting too; maybe they just needed to yell at each other a bit, to relieve some underlying tensions that could have built up into so much more than just a small argument. He rests his head on Harry’s chest and Harry automatically kisses his forehead and starts petting his hair.

“Stop that. Nobody’s perfect, babe, but you don’t even realize you’re lovely too.” He coos. “Or that I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you love me.” Louis admits, but he still can’t say he’s sure Harry’s here for better or worse. Maybe with the right amount of alcohol in his system he believes it, but with a clear head and coherent thoughts, as much as he _wants_ to trust Harry with everything he’s got, there’s always a shred of doubt in the back of his mind that he’s not sure how to get rid of. He hates that he can’t give Harry the trust he deserves, but too many past scars have just ruined him.

“And we have our tattoos now.” He reminds him, “So even if you do end up leaving me someday, you won’t really.”

This time it’s Harry’s turn to sigh again and he’s quieter when he responds. “I guess it’s just gonna take time.”

“Lots of it. Forever, probably.” Louis warns.

“I’m okay with that.” He can hear the small smile in Harry’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment me, beep me, if you wanna reach me~


	16. This is the road to ruin, and we're starting at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for everything as usual. you guys are the best. <3
> 
> this chap is a bit long and rambley and all from harry's point of view. smut warning, too. enjoy xx

Harry loves that he always wakes up before Louis, because that means he gets to watch him sleep for a bit and nothing compares to the sight of him in his most vulnerable state. Eyes shut peacefully, face squished against the pillow, light little snores tumbling out of his slightly hung open lips. He so often keeps his walls up that it’s refreshing to see him so blatantly exposed and open; no masks, no pretense, just Louis, raw and real.

There’s an ungodly ache in his chest as he recalls their fight yesterday and what an ass he’d been to this perfect vision. What an ass he is in general. Louis’d pointed the finger at him and he did what he does best; turned it right back on him and made him feel like the one at fault. Because Harry’s never been good at relationships but the one thing he is good at is mind games, and he’s sick to his stomach that he’d played them with Louis. That he’d even given himself a reason to need to play them with Louis in the first place.

Louis, his pretty little angel with the smoky eyes and the crinkly smile and the tinkly fairy laugh. Louis, who tries so hard every day just to find a reason to be alive and Louis who’s reason he wants to be. Louis, who’s family he met yesterday and he’s never met anyone’s family before, never even wanted to, but he loved Louis’ and they loved him and it all felt so right. Louis, who he talked about having kids with and who he _wants_ to start a family with, but even thinking that so concretely makes him want to run back into someone—anyone else’s bed right now because he does that better than commitment and families are hard to make work and they break and people get hurt and the kids are left to pick up the pieces but he’s still willing to take the chance for a shot at a life with Louis.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about making anything work right now because he’s only nineteen and this wasn’t the plan. The plan was just to party and fuck as much as he can, to spend his 20’s travelling the world and getting a figurative and literal taste of every country there is and not even considering things like serious relationships and settling down until all of that was out of his system, but now suddenly the plan is just to stay right here with this guy for as long as he can because he knows he could search the entire planet and never find anything more fulfilling than making Louis animate with laughter.

After Nick, he never wanted to get attached to anyone again because love is the one thing he doesn’t have faith in, but he knows he and Louis have something good, feels it in all 206 bones in his body. First loves rarely work because people are usually young and have no idea what they’re doing wrong, but they’re both past their ‘first love’ love. Louis is older and wiser and he’s strong and determined even if he doesn’t see it himself, and Harry knows his own mistakes already and he’s promised not to make them again and he’s done so good except for that one time that he’d managed to virtually forget about until Louis accused him of being unfaithful.

It’s different this time; with the others—Andy, Caroline, Brendan, Trevor, Taylor, Cara, the list goes on—it went on for months before they found out and inevitably dumped his sorry, cheating ass like they very well should have. He felt bad for hurting them, but worse that he got caught and he’d have to find someone new to inevitably cheat on next. Nick is the exception because after that one time, things went horribly awfully wrong with him, worse even than just being dumped, and Louis is the exponentially bigger exception because he’s _everything_ , more than Nick ever was or is or will be, and after he finds out about the one time it happened there’s really no telling how bad it’ll be or what absolute shit he’ll feel like for ruining the best person he knows.

Louis stirs next to him, does a cuddly little lion cub yawn and snuggles his head deeper into the pillow as he struggles to keep his eyes squinted shut and Harry has to use every ounce of his willpower not to squeal about how adorable he is. His expression melts from utter distress to gentle fondness when Louis peeks part of his face out and flutters an eye open to peer at him.

“Morning, babe.” He reaches over to brush the back of his fingers acrossLouis’ cheek.

“You’re still in bed.” Louis sounds surprised, probably because Harry’s usually nearly done cooking breakfast by the time he wakes up.

“Got distracted. Sleepy Lou is my favorite Lou.” Harry grins in adoration, all of his worries snuffing out underneath the large foot of Louis’ lethargic smile.

He uncurls himself, rolls over on his back and stretches his arms out, giving one more little yawn before fully waking. “Good to know you like me best when I’m not conscious.” He quips.

“I like you best when you’re cute and cuddly and soft.” Harry refutes, pulling him in close for a hug. When Louis threads their legs together, his morning wood argues that he’s anything but soft right now.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” Harry asks into his hair, swiveling his hips forward to grind against Louis’ bulge.

“Would you?” Louis’ lips are a gentle caress as they brush against Harry’s chest with his words.

“Like you even have to ask.” Harry leans over for a kiss and catches Louis’ bottom lip between his own and instantly feels it all the way down to his toes. Kissing in general is fun, but he’s still shocked at the way kissing Louis is always so much more; it’s sugar and fire and want and _need_. He kisses everywhere, all over, as much of his silky golden skin as he can, paying special attention to his favorite ink stains, loving the way Louis’ breathing heavies when he ducks under the covers and his lips make it all the way down to the elastic of the boxers he insists on wearing even though Harry always sleeps naked next to him.

He reaches in to palm Louis’ cock and pull it out over the waistband, marveling at its thickness and Louis’ little gasp when he starts moving his hand slightly, stroking. It’s only a few motions before he’s got his mouth around the tip, licks his tongue over the slit a few times, takes a couple inches in. Louis’ fingers reach under the blanket and twist themselves in his curls and he whimpers in protest when Harry pulls back, then plunges down farther this time. Deliberately slow, he works up a steady motion of back and forth until Louis is panting and yanking on his hair as if he’ll flat line without something to hang onto and Harry can feel how hard he’s trying not to thrust his hips up into his mouth. He doesn’t get it when Harry hums around him, giving him permission, he just cries out at the vibration, so Harry pulls off for a short break.

He throws the blanket back and off his head when he sits up slightly, still tugging as he looks him in the eye and sounds already wrecked when he speaks. “You wanna fuck my face? You can, you know.” He drawls, relishing in Louis’ little lip bite. “I want you to. Want your cock to make my throat sore. Want you to make me cry.”

“Jesus, Harry.” Louis manages. “Alright, yeah.”

“Alright what?” Harry smirks, flicking his thumb across the tip, earning an involuntary little jerk.

“Wanna wreck your fucking face. Want to fuck your mouth til you can’t even breathe.” Louis says right away, and Harry loves it. He didn’t used to be very good at dirty talk when they first started having sex, but he’s learned from the best. “Want you to beg for it. Will you beg me?”

“Please, Lou? I wan’it.” Harry leans his face back down again so his breath is hot on Louis’ cock when he speaks. He nudges his face against the side of his length like a kitten impatient to be petted, relishes in Louis’ quivering anticipation. “Want you so bad. Want you to ruin me. Please?”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, looking down at him, pupils blown wide. Harry never breaks eye contact as he slides his mouth over the tip and Louis’ head falls back as he effortlessly takes him in all the way to the back of his throat. Louis’ fingers twist around his roots again and this time when he pulls back, Louis thrusts himself upwards and forces his length back in and Harry groans at the muscle behind it and whines for more and Louis doesn’t waste any time.

He switches between holding Harry’s head steady as he fucks ferociously between his lips and forcing Harry’s head all the way down on him, nose to pelvis, keeping him there to see how long he can last before he has to pull off for air again. The tears start to sting at the back of Harry’s eyes, building every time Louis shoves himself in until they finally pour over, blurring his vision and streaming down his cheeks and mixing with the mess of saliva and precome already smeared. He imagines he looks sloppy and dirty and nasty, just the way he likes it, and when he looks up from under his sparkling lashes he meets cloudy blue and Louis apparently likes it too, judging by the way his head falls back again instantly, his body rocks with orgasm and he spills hot and thick down Harry’s throat, crying out his name in a broken sob as he greedily sucks him through it.

He waits till Louis’ gone limp again to pull off, wiping his eyes and cheeks and licking his lips to clear the salt and stickiness, then he crawls up to hover over his breathless, disheveled boyfriend and kisses the last of the air out of his lungs, lazily falling over next to him after. They get in a couple minutes of cloudy, blissful cuddling, Louis running his fingers softly through Harry’s curls as they lay together and wait for their lungs to steady again.

Harry laughs when a voice comes from the other bed in the room.

“What a way to wake up.” Niall grumbles, throwing his own duvet off his body and flinging his legs over the side of his mattress.

“What the fuck, Niall?” Louis curses, propping himself on his forearms to look across the room. “You’ve been awake this whole time? I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Bit hard to sleep with all the racket.” He comments, stretching his arms in the air and letting out a yawn. “Got in late last night, you two were already out. Should’ve known better than to actually stay in my own room for once.”

“You could have said something instead of just watching, you pervert!” Louis grabs a pillow and throws it at a head of messy blonde.

“Didn’t want to ruin the moment.” Niall ducks, shrugging. “Plus, it was actually kind of hot.”

“Want me to do you next?” Harry motions to the obvious hard-on in his pants.

“Harry!” They both scold at the same time, Louis punching his arm.

“Oh, you know I’m kidding.” He dismisses, pausing for a moment before adding, “Unless you’re up for it.”

Louis pushes against his side until he rolls off the bed and falls to the floor, chuckling.

“I’ll leave you alone to deal with his wrath now.” Niall laughs as he drags his feet out of the room.

Harry climbs back into bed and tries to snuggle against Louis’ side again, but Louis theatrically turns his nose up and away. “Sorry, I’m not talking to you right now. You just hit on my best friend right in front of me.”

“After you just came in my mouth.” He reminds him, and Louis falters, smirking, but he keeps up the charade.

“Still. What if he had said yes?”

“Then I would have told him I was joking and that your cock is the only one for me.” He coos, and this time Louis laughs and melts, letting Harry’s arms wrap around him and cuddle him up.

That little banter was treading dangerous waters because that’s really how it went, mostly, except he said something more along the lines of _what the fuck are we doing, I’ve got Louis now_ but it was still enough to bring back the memory of his terrible mistake and suddenly he’s thinking things like what would he even do if Louis left him and who even was he before they met and who will he be when Louis’ gone?

He thinks it’s normal to be a bit obsessed in a new relationship for a while. Zayn and Liam are always complaining about their ‘honeymoon phase’, but suddenly it feels like maybe he’s been too absorbed in Louis for too long. He used to do things and people to pass the time before, but now there seems to be only doing things for Louis and spending all his time with Louis and he loves it because everything is better with Louis there, but he can’t let himself forget who he is, especially when there’s a very real chance that he’s going to lose Louis soon, whether it be because he decides he really does want to die or because of Harry’s little fuck up. Despite how torn up he is about the latter, it’s still infinitely preferable to the former and god, the tables have turned so much in just one night because suddenly _he’s_ the one terrified of losing _Louis_ and he just wants to spend as much time with him as he can before it’s over.

“Do you wanna go camping with me?” He blurts.

“Camping?” Louis inflects, confused. “Like, sleeping under the stars and all that?”

“Yeah. I used to go a lot, you know.” He starts tracing the outline of the scribbles across Louis’ collarbones. “I do like to sleep under the stars, but we can stay in a tent if you want.”

“It’s gonna be cold.” Louis concerns, and Harry can hear the hesitation in his voice.

“It is a little off-season, but we can always bundle up.”

“I’ve never been camping before,” He admits next.

“Oh, you have to let me take your virginity then.” Harry smirks, earning a playful smile.

“I hope that’s not how you ask in real life. Very unsexy.” Louis comments.

“It’s irrelevant.” Harry dismisses. “I don’t plan on taking anyone else’s, unless you’ve got something you want to tell me…”

“Yes, Haz. I’m a virgin.” He retorts. “Your boyfriend who you’ve been sleeping with on a nightly basis is actually a 100% virgin unicorn. Sorry I’ve kept it from you this long, but I was just worried you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

“I’ll always want you.” Harry kisses his chest and Louis just hums contentedly. “I wish I could have been your first time. I wish you were my first time.” _I wish you were my only time and I never even knew what it was like to have sex with anyone else because you’re the best anyways and I may have fucked it all up because I never learned how to keep it in my pants._

“I’m actually rather glad you weren’t around for that. I think I’d die of embarrassment.” Louis offers.

“Why, was yours that awful?” He wonders.

“My first with a girl or a guy?”

“I wanna hear about both.”

“The first _first_ time was with Hannah. Pretty girl, but getting hard was a struggle and I didn’t even finish.” He squints in painful embarrassment. “Honestly, I don’t know how neither of us guessed I was gay right then.”

“Did you guys do it at all after that?”

“We tried two more times, if I remember right, but by then we’d already lost interest in each other anyway so it was more because we thought we had to rather than because we wanted to.” He shrugs.

“And who was the guy?”

“Don’t know.” Louis admits, getting quiet now. “Got really drunk at a party and just dragged someone into a room. I only remember bits and pieces of it, but it was nothing special.”

“ _You_ hooked up with a random person?” Harry’s jaw drops.

“I have before, yeah. More than once, and I don’t have good memories from any of them. That’s why I won’t anymore.” He explains.

“Oh my god, my boyfriend is a total slut.” Harry teases, making him chuckle at the irony.

“I imagine you weren’t very good on your first try, either.” Louis switches the focus.

“Oh no, I was an expert right from the start.” He brags, recalling his first time, which in reality was not anything even close to expert.

“Do tell.” Louis prods.

“Kidding about that.” He clarifies. “Quite the opposite, actually. With a girl, I was only fourteen so I just got way too excited, way too fast, and it was pretty much a disaster.”

“You came too early,” Louis guesses, holding his tummy as he bursts into a fit of giggles.

“Hey, it happens to the best of us.” Harry defends, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“How about with a guy?” Louis wants to know.

“Err, that wasn’t really the best either. I actually didn’t have a clue what I was doing so I just let him do all the work. It was… fast and hard and it hurt.” He recalls.

“You mean you bottomed?” Louis’ eyes widen in surprise.

“Yup.” He says easily.

“Just that one time, or like…” Louis trails off, leaving him to interpret.

“It only hurt that one time, but I’ve done it plenty more.”

“So you like it then?” Louis presses.

“Of course I do.” He admits. He’s let Louis do just about everything to his arse, but he’s never been properly fucked by him before and now that the subject has been opened, he’s really not sure why. Louis just seems to always want to take it rather than the other way around, and he’s happy to oblige. With an arse like that, it would be an absolute waste if Louis were an adamant top.

Louis’ quiet for a minute, considering, so he just waits patiently for the question he figures is coming next.

“How come we never…” Louis starts, pausing to phrase it properly. “I mean, would you let me… like, could I?”

“You want to fuck me?” He loves the way Louis’ cheeks pink at the bluntness of it.

“Of course I do.” Louis mimics his tone, making him chuckle.

“Okay. Next time it’s your turn on top.” Harry promises, kissing his nose.

“I never have before.” Louis admits.

“So I do get to take your virginity then. How exciting.” Harry grins, kissing his lips this time, shutting him up with chipper eagerness.

“Just don’t be surprised if I’m not any good at first. Practice makes perfect, and all.” Louis warns when they pull apart, but Harry’s not concerned by it. Just the idea of Louis inside him is enough to make the blood flow. He knows what he’s doing with his fingers and he’s just as good with his tongue, so there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that it’ll be infinitely satisfying regardless.

“We can practice as much as you want.” He assures, threading his fingers through feathery caramel. “About that camping trip, though…”

“Damn. You saw through my distraction.” Louis grumbles.

“If you really don’t want to, I won’t beg, but it would make me really happy if you’d go with me.” Harry whispers against his forehead. “I promise it’ll be fun. I know this great spot that’s close to this really pretty flower meadow, and there’s a stream nearby where you can see the salamanders on the rocks, and sometimes deer will come drink from it and if you’re really quiet they won’t notice you and you can watch them for a while, and there’s all these paths through the woods that lead to the mountains and when you get to the top you can see the whole forest below—”

“Okay, okay,” Louis gives, interrupting his rambling with a chuckle. “I’ll go. You can just show me this marvelous outdoors world of yours.”

“You’re the best.” Harry grins, excited to leave the real world for a while. Maybe a vacation away from all the stress of normal life is exactly what they both need right now.

\--

When he goes to pick Louis up from work on Friday for their weekend getaway, he’s expecting to see him and Ashton as usual, but this time it’s Michael who greets him at the counter and his whole body heats up with anger and regret and he wants to turn and run away, but he knows how ridiculous that would look so he just sucks it up and marches in, expecting the worst.

“Hey, Harry,” Michael’s smile is just as friendly as ever and his stomach lurches at how familiar it was between them before their indiscretion got in the way of it. “Lou’s in the back with Ash, cleaning up. He’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“Right, well,” Harry hesitates, makes a slight move back towards the door. “Just let him know I’m waiting in the car.”

“Come on, Harry, really?” Michael furrows his brows, hurt. “Haven’t even seen you in months. When are you gonna get past this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He deliberately avoids eye contact.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Michael accuses, staring him down from behind his crayon colored fringe. “I said I was sorry. And things seem to be going well between you and Louis. I thought you guys had moved on from it.”

“There’s nothing to move on from, because nothing happened.” Harry maintains.

“You’re saying you haven’t told him?” Michael raises his eyebrows.

“Nothing to tell.” Harry denies. Obviously he knows that’s a lie, but somehow actually talking about it with him makes it too real and vivid and terrifying.

“That’s fucked up.” Michael shakes his stupid pink and purple hair out of his face to glare directly at him like a hypocritical, disapproving mother.

“You wanna know what’s fucked up? Trying to seduce your friend’s boyfriend, that’s what.” Harry hisses.

“You played as much a part as I did.” Michael reminds him. “Difference is I’m not the one who was seeing someone else.”

“Yeah, but you knew I was, and you still tried anyway.” Harry snaps. They’d been drinking and smoking and chilling just like any other time they’d ever hung out, but then Michael started getting weird and touching him too much and he just went with it, like he’s gotten so used to doing around people who are attractive and interesting, but he let it go on too far and Michael didn’t even seem to feel any remorse and that was just pissing him off even more. He hurt Louis too and didn’t even care about the damage he’d helped do.

“I thought that’s like, just how you guys were!” Michael defends. “People talk. I’ve heard how you are, so I just assumed you guys were doing the open relationship thing or whatever.”

“Well then, you should’ve at least asked.” He spits, remembering quick hands and licked lips and heavy breathing and wanting so bad to just go back and yell at himself for not stopping it before it even started.

“Don’t try to pin this all on me. It was your fault too and you know it. You could have said something before I had my fucking mouth on your—” As much as he hates Michael right now, he’s grateful that he at least has the mercy to shut up as soon as Louis and Ashton emerge from the back room together.

And fuck, it’s not even fair for him to feel jealous when he catches Louis mid-laugh while Ashton just grins in very obvious satisfaction at the breathtaking reaction, but seeing how giddy he always is around the guy does stir something inside him. He knows Ashton could make Louis happy if he himself weren’t so selfish and didn’t want to have Louis even at the cost of destroying him in the process. _  
_

“Harry!” Louis somehow lights up even more at the sight of him, and that effectively squelches any envious feelings. For some reason, Louis loves him more than anyone, and it’s always clear as day on his face and in his actions, the way he practically runs to him and rises on his tiptoes for a quick kiss.

“Hey, Lou. Have a good day at work?” He’s careful to not even spare Michael a glance, for fear of what Louis might see between them.

“The usual. How about you?”

“Same. James and El asked about you today. They said if you’re not going to go see them anymore, they’ll have to come see you.”

“Tell them to stop by anytime. I miss them, too.” Louis smiles, remembering fondly.

“Will do.” Harry pushes the hair out of his face and kisses his forehead and notices Ashton blatantly staring. If he knows Michael at all, he can be sure he’s long since told Ashton what happened and the sandy haired creep doesn’t look very happy about it. “You ready for our camping trip?”

“Have you got everything in the car?”

“Yeah. I stopped home on the way here to pick up our things so all we have to do is get on the road.”

Ashton is still watching the two of them and Louis is so oblivious to the pure jealousy and contempt in his eyes, it’s almost comical. Except, he actually feels bad for the guy. Maybe it’s because he remembers what it’s like to watch Louis with someone else, to be burned alive with how much you want to reach out and snatch him up and cuddle him close to keep him away from the prying hands of others, and he can see that reflected so clear in Ashton’s eyes. It’s not like he really did anything with the intention of hurting either of them, so it feels unfair that he should have to suffer so much for no reason.

“Cool.” Louis grins, then turns to face the other guys again. “See you Monday, yeah? Have fun working while you remember I’m out having real fun, not working at all.” He sticks his tongue out at the two of them and they both give him a middle finger as he drags Harry out of the shop.

“Just a minute.” Harry objects, stopping in his tracks just outside the door. “You wait in the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Why?” Louis wants to know.

“I wanna talk to Ashton about something.”

“Come on, Haz, don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not. I want to apologize, or whatever.” He admits, and Louis just blinks at him in stunned silence. “I promise I won’t be mean. Just one minute.” He pushes the door open and reenters, giving Ashton a little side nod and a motion for him to come over.

“Me?” Michael cocks his head to the side and he almost wants to puke.

“No.” He says curtly. “Him.”

“Me?” Ashton is even more incredulous when Harry nods. He hesitates for a minute, looks like he’s going to decline, but curiosity gets the better of him and he strides over, tall and chiseled and fuck, Louis really knows how to pick them. He’d be intimidated if Ashton weren’t equally as cheery and baby-faced as he is height and brawn. And he's not even the biggest of the bunch. There must be something incredible in that Austrailian water.

“I just wanted to um…” Harry starts, realizing he hasn’t really thought this out at all. He just noticed how tortured Ashton looked and felt like he had to say something to make him feel better. “I mean, I see the way you look at him.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to tone it down.” Ashton’s eyes flick towards the ground like he’s embarrassed of his obvious feelings.

“No, no, that’s not what this is about. I wanted to say _I’m_ sorry.” Harry sighs. “For like, everything. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I’d been working on telling him how I felt for a while before you even came along. I just feel bad about how it all happened and… I mean, I kinda stole your chance, huh?” He babbles, and Ashton looks up and tilts his head in passing acknowledgement, waits for him to continue.

“Well, you know. I’m sorry. Louis really likes you, so you must be an alright person.” He almost wants to swallow his tongue for even admitting it out loud, especially when that tiny smug smirk creeps onto Ashton’s face. “I just don’t want there to be any more hard feelings between us.”

Ashton raises a suspicious eyebrow, looks him up and down, stares at him for an unnecessarily prolonged moment of awkwardness. He’s usually good at reading people, but Ashton is hard to get a handle on right now and it’s weird talking to him like this and he kind of wishes he could rewind time a few minutes and just leave with Louis and let it be.

“No hard feelings.” He finally says.

“Really?” Harry checks in disbelief. “You don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.” Ashton assures him, and there seems to be nothing but genuinity in both his tone and demeanor. “Not gonna lie, I’m fucking ridiculously jealous, but I suppose I can’t blame you. I’m not really one for holding grudges, and in the end it was him who made his own decision anyway. So… yeah, whatever. All’s forgiven.”

“You’re… really understanding.” He acquiesces.

Ashton shrugs. “That all you wanted to say? He’s practically listening through the glass right now.” He nods to behind Harry, where Louis is staring at the two of them through the window like a kid who’s just seen his first naked woman.

Harry waves him off and Louis pouts, but reluctantly sulks away and they both chuckle and it feels weird to laugh at something with the person who almost took the man he loves right out from under his nose. He thinks Ashton must feel the same, because they both come to an abrupt stop at the same time.

“Don’t fuck up again.” Ashton warns then, eyes hard and serious and demanding and yeah, he definitely knows. “I care about him too. A lot. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Harry heaves a deep, pensive sigh. “I know. I don’t either.” Which is ironic, considering he’s already the catalyst behind Louis’ impending doom.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“You know him better than I do.” Ashton’s aura has turned wistful, longing again, and it makes him uncomfortable. He may understand what it’s like to be in Ashton’s shoes, but it doesn’t bother him any less that someone else is dreaming about his boyfriend that way.

“Would you forgive me?” He ventures. “I mean, not me specifically, but if it was someone you loved.”

“Yeah.” Ashton admits easily. “But that’s just me. I like to let people walk all over me. Tragic flaw of mine.”

Harry nods, unable to help the tiny smile that spreads because god, can he relate. Maybe this guy isn’t actually so bad after all.

“Plus, I’m not sure that what you and Mike did really even counts. I mean, at least you didn’t fuck him. And it was a while ago, and you and Lou are so happy now that it shouldn’t even matter. It’ll still hurt him to find out, but maybe he’ll forgive you after some consideration.” Ashton observes.

“Why haven’t you told on me yet?” He wonders then. “You could probably get me out of the picture and have your opening again.”

“Not that I haven’t considered it, but it’s just not my style to interfere like that.” Ashton admits, and that was definitely a jab at him, but he can’t blame the guy for needing to slip that in. “And I think he deserves to hear it from you.”

“Right. Well,” He sort of shrugs off the end of the conversation, not knowing what else to say and feeling anxious to get back to Louis and start their weekend away from all the bullshit. “Thanks for that, then. You’re actually a pretty cool guy, or whatever.”

“Thanks.” Ashton chuckles lightly. “You’re okay too, I guess. Not the evil, man-stealing, arsewipe I imagined you as, anyways.”

“Thanks.” Harry grins, giving a lazy salute goodbye as he turns to meet Louis in the car.

He’s got a million prying questions about how it went and exactly what was said, of course, so Harry happily retells it, leaving out the end part in favor of telling him instead that Ashton just wanted to make sure he was being treated alright, and the crinkly smile Louis does at finding out they’ve made up in an almost friendly way is more than worth it.

\--

“Harry, where the hell are you taking me? I don’t even remember where camp is anymore.” Louis frets as the two of them make their way through the woods, trudging through sticks and leaves and wilting greenery.

The trees do wonders at breaking the cold winds whipping around, but there’s still enough of a chill in the air that he’s glad they wore sweaters. Louis looks absolutely precious dressed in his oversized gray one; he has to push the arms up to avoid getting sweater paws (which are equally as charming) and the bottom hem falls down to cover his bum (a shame, really), making him look like a child that raided daddy’s closet. Harry can’t resist scooping him up in his arms and carrying him part of the way just so he can hold him close, and he doesn’t seem to mind today.

“I don’t know, really.” Harry admits. “There was one time me and Gemma were out here and we found this really old wishing well. In the middle of the woods!”

“So we’re just wandering in circles then.” Louis concludes.

“A _well_ , Louis. _In the middle of the woods._ ” He repeats for emphasis. “Why is it here? How did it get here? What the hell is a well doing out in the middle of nowhere like that?”

“It was probably just left over from the 1700’s or something.” Louis assumes. “Maybe there used to be houses out here.”

“And only one person had a well in their yard?” Harry challenges.

“Maybe it was the town well.” Louis suggests.

“That seems impractical.”

“What’s your theory, then?”

“I think it was supernatural.” He admits without hesitation.

“A ghost well.” Louis gives him a look to convey how ridiculous he sounds.

“ _Supernatural_ , not paranormal.” Harry refutes. “And hear me out. We didn’t have any coins on us, but Gemma wished she did and then suddenly found one just sitting on the opposite edge. My mum was real sick at the time, nobody knew what was wrong with her, so we used our coin to wish it away and she’s been perfectly healthy ever since.”

“That’s…” Louis hesitates, not knowing what to say.

“Magic, right?” Harry finishes for him. “Supernatural shit. We never found it again after that, either. It’s like the universe was just sending us a way to make her better and then it disappeared forever.”

“I don’t believe in magic.” Louis argues. “But that is quite the grand coincidence, and I understand why you’re so determined to find it again. Also, I’m glad Anne’s okay now.”

“Protected for life, apparently. By the magic well.” Harry grins and Louis rolls his eyes in obvious endearment.

They’ve been out since the sun rose in the morning and they roam around for a while longer as it inches up higher in the sky, doing absolutely nothing to warm the air, but letting its rays warm their skin a bit. Louis starts to get cranky the more time they spend coming up empty handed and asks to be set down but then only a few minutes later, complains about his feet hurting, wonders how Harry’s doing this barefoot.

“You should know. The bottoms of my feet are tougher than the soles of any shoe.” He beams with pride. “I think I’ve stepped on like twelve pinecones now, but it just feels like a tickle to me.”

“Well, isn’t that nice for you then.” Louis snaps.

“Do you wanna go back to camp?” Harry smirks, amused at his sarcasm.

“No. I want to see the flower meadow you told me about.” He pouts. “And the creek and the salamanders and the baby deer and the view from the mountain path. I didn’t sign up for getting lost in the woods trying to find your crazy old magic well.”

Harry laughs, but takes his hand and turns them around. “We’re not lost. Camp is this way. I only know how to get to those things from there, so we’ll go back and start over and I’ll show you everything I told you about.”

So he does. He takes him through the woods again, this time knowing exactly where he’s going, and they find the field of flowers and sit for hours as he teaches Louis how to weave crowns out of them and ends up leaving his original one behind in favor of the adorably atrocious mess of tiny rainbow petals that Louis created for him. They go to the stream and Harry wades in the shallow water while Louis watches from the edge, leaning forward to witness the slimy creatures run for cover as he flips their rocks over, giggling whenever Harry almost slips and falls in.

They don’t get to see any fawns drink from it, but on their hike up the mountain trail they catch a couple of rams lazing on the rocks and Louis doesn’t seem to mind when Harry accidentally starts rambling in depth about their horns and their diet and mating habits and all his useless information about animals comes into play for once and it feels good to revisit that part of him. He used to spend hours of his own time, neglecting his schoolwork even, just googling random animals and filling his brain with infinite knowledge on things like why cats purr, how much elephants can eat in a day, what the smallest fish in existence is, the gestation period of kangaroos. He’s an encyclopedia of animal knowledge, and it’s comforting to know that Louis can appreciate that. Or at least put up with it.

He hasn’t been this in tune with nature in a long time, either. On their old family trips here, he used to wake up before the sun just to climb this very mountain and do yoga on the rocks like some cliché kung-fu movie. He remembers breathing in the clear air, the scent of the wood and leaves and dirt and grass all around him, wishing he could just run away from society and join a coven of travelling hippies, live off the earth and all its natural resources like people used to do. Somewhere it would be okay to wear flowers in his hair and no one would try to force him into shoes or judge him for sleeping around and there’d be no fighting or hurting, just peace and love and happiness and people who understand.

This trip was just what he needed to remember who he was; the only thing is, he’s not sure that’s who he wants to be anymore. He likes the way he is with Louis. He likes taking care of Louis and making him smile and being there for him and holding him through his tears and even suffering with him is better than never suffering again. It’s so nice to get outside with him for once because Louis isn’t really into nature like he is so they end up spending all their time together indoors nowadays, but if that’s how Louis prefers it then he’s even okay with that, too. He just wants to be with Louis now and the thought that he has to tell him about what he’s done creeps back into his mind and he feels like falling to his knees and just screaming until his lungs bleed because it’s going to crush Louis to find out and it’s going to crush him when Louis leaves.

“This is amazing.” Louis says to the wind as they climb farther above the trees and the setting sun paints the sky an arrangement of warm colors and the light washes over the blanket of green, bright and brilliant below. “I’m so glad I let you talk me into this.”

“Perfect.” Harry agrees, reaching out to hug Louis close to his chest and pet his hair while they watch the sun go down.

He used to be so good at keeping entire affairs hidden, but just this one instance is devouring his insides and threatening to escape soon because _Louis_ is perfect and pretty and lovely in every way and he deserves to know the extent to which his boyfriend is a terrible, lying arsehole. And he will. Eventually. Harry just wants to enjoy him as much as he can before it inevitably goes to hell.

It’s nightfall by the time they reach base again and Harry works on getting a bonfire going. It’s even colder out now and they’ve each got two sweaters layered on and Louis’ bundled up in a blanket, too.

“We did everything you wanted to today, but we’ve still got tomorrow left.” Harry says. “What are we gonna do then?”

“We could try looking for the well again.” Louis offers, sitting himself on the log across from the fire pit. “Or we could go back to the flowers. Or we could go explore and look for new things to do. Or we could just stay in the tent and have sex all day.”

“All of those are lovely ideas, but I think I’m leaning more towards the last option.” Harry decides, just as the wood catches and starts to burn.

“Go explore and look for new things to do?” Louis grins, the flick of the orange flames illuminating his crinkly smile.

“The other one. The one that requires you to get naked.” He plops himself down on the log too, and drapes one side of the blanket around himself, snuggling in next to Louis like a cozy little boyfriend burrito.

“Sex doesn’t really require nudity.” Louis teases.

“If you prefer to keep your jumpers on, I wouldn’t mind. You look absolutely edible.” He hooks a finger over Louis’ collar and gives a little tug against it.

“I think that might actually be necessary. It’s freezing out here.” He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them and Harry wraps his arms around him just like that.

“I think it might also be necessary to share a sleeping bag tonight.” Harry agrees.

“I think you’re right.” Louis turns his head to press their lips together in a kiss that’s icy lips and warm breaths.

Still, they stay out for longer, roasting homemade vegan marshmallows over the fire and even though Louis grumbles about how weird they taste, he has Harry make him eight of them because he’s better at getting them perfectly golden brown without catching them on fire like Louis always does. They eat and laugh and kiss and stay huddled together for warmth and Louis sings him a song, a slower version of something that’s not slow at all, but somehow it works with Louis’ smooth melody and the low cackle of the dying flames and the crickets chirping and owls hooting far away in the background.

When it’s finally time for bed, they snuggle down in their sleeping bag in the tent, sealed off from the harsh winds and stinging cold and in their own little bubble. Louis’ curled against his chest where he belongs, and Harry spends most of the night trying not to panic because the day’s been so perfect and he’s got Louis all to himself and who knows how long it’ll be before he’s gone forever.

He’s not sure what time it is when he whispers Louis’ name into the dark, but when he responds it’s clear that he must have been awake all night too, probably worrying about his own things, because there’s no indication of drowsiness in his tone at all.

“Have you gotten a wink of sleep?” Harry wonders, instantly concerned.

“I’ve drifted in and out.” The lie is clear in Louis’ voice and it’s so irrational to let it upset him when he’s keeping so many of his own secrets right now, but it does.

“Something bothering you?” He checks.

“Something bothering _you_?” Louis counters, purposefully avoiding answering for himself. “You haven’t slept, either.”

“’M fine.” Harry mumbles, and he can feel Louis’ lips pull up at the corners.

“You’re really gonna try that with me?” He challenges, and Harry can’t help the light little chuckle that escapes his lips at their reversed roles, but it’s gone once he realizes again that things are definitely not fine and he has to tell him because he deserves to know and it’s probably only a matter of time before he finds out somehow anyways and it’ll be even worse if he hears from someone else so _he has to tell him_.

He feels Louis’ press a kiss against his neck and the words get caught in his throat and he can’t do it yet.

“Why do you love me?” He practically whispers, hating himself for what he’s done and wondering how anyone could possibly want someone as foul and lousy as he is.

Louis hesitates and it’s quiet for so long that Harry has to look down and check to see if he’s still awake. He is, and that fills him with the worry that Louis doesn’t know why he loves him because why would he?

“Well, you’re always there for me.” He finally says. “Like, even though I’m fucked up and even though I keep shutting you out, you just keep trying and like, you don’t give up on me.”

“You’re not—”  Harry starts to say, because yes maybe Louis does have his issues but he’s far from fucked up; _he’s_ the fucked up one, but Louis puts a frozen finger to his lips to shut him up before he can properly protest.

“You say things that actually make me feel better about, you know, everything, and somehow you can make me feel like maybe I’m not the useless little shit I think I am.” He continues.

“You’re not.” Harry manages to assure him, but it’s all just pouring out of Louis’ mouth now.

“You care about everything. It’s… inspiring.” Louis marvels. “You care so much about like, nature and animals and music and your family and friends and me and even people who’ve fucked you over.” He says, and then, “Like Nick. I hate him, because after all this time you still care and I know it. And Ashton. I mean, he didn’t really fuck you over or anything, but you had no reason to feel like you owed him an apology, yet you did it anyway because you’re you.” He smiles softly, briefly. “I’m really good at just cutting people off once they’ve hurt me, but you’re always willing to give more chances because you just see the good in people. You’ve got the biggest heart in the world.”

He tries to concentrate on all of the good things Louis has noticed about him, but his ears don’t miss the words _I’m really good at just cutting people off once they’ve hurt me…_

“You’re different.” Louis keeps rambling. “You’re like, quirky and weird and I love it. Everyone else just sort of blends in with each other, but then there’s you with your flowers and your bare feet and all your dumb impulse tattoos and you’re so gorgeous I would notice you even standing surrounded in a sea of people.”

“You really probably wouldn’t.” His objection is quiet and overpowered anyways because Louis amazingly still isn’t finished.

“And you don’t let anything bring you down. Like, shit happens, you know? And my first reaction is to curl up and go to sleep and get really sad, but you just keep smiling through it all.” Louis looks up at him then and gives his own little adoring grin and it should be the best feeling in the world, but instead it borders on the worst because Louis sees him as the person who put the sun in the sky and he knows how drastically that’s going to change someday whenever he gets the courage to own up to his mistake.

“And did I already say you’re gorgeous? Because you are. I was honestly speechless the first time I saw you. I still am, sometimes. You’re a work of art.”

“You’re so much prettier than me.” Harry argues.

“Nope. You’re a princess.” Louis argues back.

“Who says princesses have to be pretty?” Harry challenges.

“Disney.” Louis says, very matter-of-fact, and Harry bursts out laughing.

“Fair enough.” He grins.

“Why do you ask?” Louis wants to know. “I mean, about why I love you.”

“I get insecure sometimes, too.” He admits simply.

“Don’t know what for.” Louis’ arms snake over his sides and settle into the crook of his back, just above his bum. “You’re perfect.”

“Please don’t think of me that way.” He discredits. “I’m really not. I make mistakes. I’m a fuck up, too.”

“I don’t mean perfect like that. I mean it like… yeah, obviously you make mistakes and you have your flaws, but I love them just as much as the rest of you, cause they’re all part of what makes you beautiful.” Louis explains.

“Jesus, Lou. Laying it on a bit thick tonight.” He half-chuckles, brushing off the sincerity that he doesn’t know how to handle right now. He thought hearing about why he’s loved might help relieve some of the shit he feels, but it just ended up burying him in more.

“I just want you to know.” Louis says, quieter now. “I love you so much. Today was wonderful and I’m so full of love I actually want to roll my eyes at _myself_ for being so sappy.”

Harry holds him tighter and no, he’s absolutely not going to cry.

“Today _was_ wonderful. And I love you too, so much. More than anything.”

He ignores the tears behind his eyes, wills them to stay hidden because they’ll only make Louis ask questions, so he just holds him and runs his fingers through his hair and breathes him in and kisses him into sleep and loves him way too much for their own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aughhh i do not condone cheating at all, even in "slight" cases, so it was interesting to put myself in harry's head here. please please please tell me your thoughts!


	17. If you love me, let me go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many times have i told you guys you're all the best? not enough. i love you for being so responsive and so invested and so eager for more. i am terribly sorry to always keep you waiting, but sometimes life just gets in the way and stuff and it actually really frustrates me when i am not able to work on this story as often as i'd like, so it means a lot that you guys are so patient and understanding as well. thank you so much as always <3
> 
> anyways, enough of my rambling. we are back to lou's perspective for this chap and there's some smut jsyk and yeah okay enjoy xx

The crisp morning air and the birds outside the tent, chirping their good mornings to the world effectively wakes him the next day, and he sits up in the empty sleeping bag to find Harry settled in a corner of the tent, limbs lost in the chaos of a thick sweater, reading the book Louis just finished last week. Harry always likes to read his sloppy seconds.

He looks over and smiles a warm good morning and Louis’ heart jumps at his simple beauty in the soft daylight.

“Morning.” Louis returns, reaching his arms out towards Harry and grabbing at the air like a kid trying to reach for his toy on the top shelf. Harry chuckles lightly and marks his page in the book before setting it down and crawling his way over to cuddle into Louis’ arms, wrapping his own arms around his waist as he leans in for a kiss.

“How was your first night roughing it in the wilderness?” Harry checks when they pull apart, smoothing down the top of Louis’ bed head.

“One of the best I’ve had in a while.” He admits easily. Even though they share a bed every night, Niall is in the room sometimes too, and Zayn and Liam are always just a wall apart, so the two of them rarely ever get to be really alone like this and that’s mostly why he loves camping with him so much. It’s just him and Harry and the woodland creatures and the clear, cool mountain air and the trees and dirt and wind and nobody to disturb their togetherness and no reason why they can’t spend the entire day just living in each other.

He loves how at home Harry is here, too. How excited he was yesterday, even when they were just aimlessly wandering through the woods. The way he marvels at everything from the feeling of the earth between his toes, to the little lady bug that landed on his arm and he carefully set free on a nearby leaf. He loves that Harry is so full of knowledge about goats and owls and bats and crickets and other animals and that he randomly blurts out little facts like _did you know deer are actually really good swimmers?_ and _squirrels forget where they bury their acorns a lot, it helps the forest grow_. He’d happily follow him through the woods any day, just to listen to him talk and feel and _be_.

“Really?” Harry inflects, raising an eyebrow. “I found it a bit chilly.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, finding Harry’s hands and fitting his fingers between the spaces. “But I love being here with you. Just us, you know?”

Harry’s smile spreads slowly, adoringly, and his thumb strokes the back of Louis’ palm as he brings their hands to his lips and kisses their embraced fingers. “Yeah, I know. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I was much of the camping type before, but now I think I could probably live out here with you.” He knows what’s waiting for him back at home; people and responsibility and routine and adulthood, and even years of dealing with it all hasn’t made it any easier or more inviting. He’s never dreaded the suddenly stuffy air of his flat and the stale sheets of his bed so much in his life. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Me either.” Harry leans forward to nuzzle his head in the space of Louis’ neck, breath especially warm in comparison to the iciness in the air and Louis’ skin doesn’t stand a chance against the rising goose bumps. “We could run away and stay here forever.” He mumbles, already on the same page.

“Let’s do it.” He agrees, and Harry pulls away to look at him with widened eyes, shocked by his eager compliance.

“Don’t tempt me. I’ve been dreaming about living in the woods since I was a kid. I’ll steal you away from the real world and start cultivating our little home out here without a second thought.” He warns, and Louis chuckles lightly.

As much as he does love the idea and how often he thinks about running away from everything, he doesn’t have the courage. He’s not even entirely sure what it is he’s afraid of. Failure, maybe. If he did run off somewhere and things ended up not working out, it’s a pretty safe bet that the stress and disappointment of leaving his old life behind and then ruining his new one would be enough for him to just give up. And the idea that he’d just be changing the scenery and not the problem is an equally terrifying concern.

“Maybe someday we can, for real.” He offers. “Not now, but like, when we’re older. If that’s what you really want.”

“I just wanna be with you. I don’t care where.” Harry drawls, snuggling back into his neck, brushing his nose against it, planting tiny, lazy kisses there. “Where do you want to go?”

He really doesn’t know how to answer that. He hasn’t thought seriously about what he wants out of life since before he quit school, and even then he never really had a concrete answer to the question where do you see yourself in ten years? _Happy_ is all he ever hoped for.

“Somewhere interesting. Away from routine.” He determines after a moment of consideration. “Somewhere there’s always something happening, or where you can always make things happen.”

“London. Paris. Tokyo. NYC.” Harry suggests.

“Any of them sounds nice.” Louis hums, imagining different scenarios for each. “So many people, though. I like it out here too, away from everything. I’m okay with wherever you want.”

“Paris, then.” Harry decides, pulling away to settle into a seat next to him, giving his hand a light squeeze. “The city of love. We could have a nice flat somewhere on a quiet street, with a full glass wall and a perfect view of the tower.”

“Could we now?” Louis muses, picturing it. “And how do you expect to make that happen?”

“We’ll figure something out.” Harry promises, “We’ve got time.”

The thing is, Louis’ worried that they might not. He’s been hoping time will provide a solution to many things, ever since he can remember, but it never works out that way and the clock is always ticking, reminding him that this is his life and it’s not fun or happy or exciting, it’s an uphill struggle against a monumental rockslide down a cliff and that’s all it’s ever been and all it ever will be.

“Do you ever think about going back to school?” He blurts then, remembering when his life actually had some sort of direction, however misguided it might have been.

“Theoretically.” Harry admits, fiddling with their fingers again. “I never was very good at it. I don’t regret leaving, but I sometimes wonder if I stayed or even went back, what I’d be doing now.”

“What would you be doing now?” Louis queries. “It’d be your first year at Uni, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’d probably major in biology. Or something more specific, like zoology or oceanography if I could.”

“Oceanography, really?” Louis inflects, intrigued.

“Yeah. I used to want to be a marine biologist when I grew up, you know.” He confesses.

“You know cats don’t live in the ocean, right?” Louis teases.

“Look at you, my little animal expert.” Harry mocks him back, earning a cheeky smirk.

“Seriously though, I always thought you were more interested in land animals.”

“Cats are definitely my favorite, but I’ve always been fascinated by marine life.” He says, getting that familiar dreamy spark in his eyes. “It’s so weird and colorful and random. And that’s just what we’ve already found; something like 90% of the ocean has yet to be explored. Can you even imagine what kind of things we’ll discover as time goes on? I’m crossing my fingers that mermaids are down there somewhere.”

Louis’ smile spreads, soft and adoring, like it always does when Harry gets passionate and excited about things. “So what happened, then? I mean, why don’t you want to do that anymore? You could get lucky enough to find the first real mermaid ever.”

“That would be a lifelong dream come true.” Harry grins, but shrugs it off. “I guess it’s still something I’d do if I ever got the chance, but I just don’t feel the need to pursue it for now. I’m happy with where I am in life, and I can always go back to school if I really change my mind. I’m in no rush.”

“But you can’t possibly want to work at the shelter forever.” He assumes. No matter how great of a job anything is, he can’t imagine being stuck in the same position for very long, much less the rest of a lifetime.

“No, not forever, but I definitely don’t have plans to leave any time soon.” Harry declares, cheeks dimpling with pride. “I love it there. I love spending time with the cats and I love setting them up with new homes. They get a loving family and the family gets a new addition to love, so like, beyond just enjoying myself, it feels like I’m saving lives and making a difference. It really is perfect for now.”

“That’s what I want.” Louis pinpoints, shuddering involuntarily at the accuracy of what Harry’s just described. “That’s it, that’s exactly it. I want to feel that way. I want to feel satisfied and accomplished with what I do, and like, useful. Important. Like something I’ve done has helped improve someone’s life.”

“Do you want to work with me? I’m sure Eleanor would love to hire you.” Harry offers immediately, always wanting to do whatever makes him happy.

“No, I don’t think…” He sighs, long and deep and wistful, before continuing his thoughts. “I mean, it’s a wonderful job and I’m glad you love it so much, but I don’t think it would bring me the same fulfillment, you know? I want the thing that makes me feel the same way animals make you feel. Passion, I guess.”

“And you don’t know what that thing is.” Harry concludes.

“I’ve never known.” Louis admits, frowning.

“Well, do you ever think of going back to Uni?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I mean, I only quit earlier this year.” He shrugs. “I’m not terribly far behind on my credits, so it wouldn’t be too hard to catch up.”

“Why don’t you, then?” Harry wonders.

“Schoolwork, debt, daily interaction with people; the majority of which I can’t stand. Take your pick. It’s all so stressful.” Louis sighs, remembering the grueling day to day life, the everyday dread of attending class. It seems like no matter what he chooses to do with his life, everything leads back to a dull routine. “Makes me want to commit.”

Harry reaches up to cradle his cheek in his hand and give it a light, fond stroke. “Please don’t joke like that. I really worry about you, you know.”

“I’m not joking, it literally makes me want to die.” Louis assures him, letting his gaze fall towards the ground so he doesn’t have to see the sincerity behind Harry’s eyes. “That’s why I stopped going in the first place.”

“Well then, I cast my vote for you never going back.” Harry leans in for a kiss that fills him with liquid sunshine and lifts him right back up.

“What was your major, anyways?” He wonders when they pull apart, brushing a stray piece of Louis’ hair behind his ear.

“English.”

“Did you want to be a writer, then?” Harry guesses.

“No, I’ve never written anything of my own besides term papers and stuff.” Louis admits. “I was thinking I’d try my hand at teaching. Probably college kids so I wouldn’t have to babysit, too. I could be that cool teacher that everyone likes cause I’d never give any homework, just assign some books to read and then hold class discussions.”

“You’d be the hot teacher that everyone has a crush on.” Harry decides.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“I don’t, not for a second.” Harry’s looking at him like a piece of meat now, if he were a hungry carnivore. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already got a crush on you, Mr. Tomlinson, and I’d do _anything_ for an A.” He keeps his voice teasing but sultry, fingers tracing a path down the length of Louis’ body, until they settle on his hips and give life to a slight venereal tingle in his belly when he catches Harry’s drift.

“Mr. Styles, I don’t think this is appropriate for a student-teacher relationship.” Louis plays along, adding a professional air to his tone, loving the way Harry’s sly little smirk spreads in response.

“But Professor, I need this.” He insists, leaning in again to brush his nose against the shell of Louis’ ear and kiss his way down to his neck.

“I think you’ll do just fine with a less than perfect score.” Louis stays firm, but makes no real effort to stop Harry’s advances, encourages him even, by letting his head fall back, giving him better access to mark his skin.

“No, I need _this_.” Harry drawls, heavy and deep, reaching down to fist Louis’ cock through the thin layer of fabric from his sweats, and he automatically grinds forward into the touch. “Been thinking about it all year. You’re so hot, Professor. Please, can I suck your cock?”

Louis curses low, underneath his breath, and Harry shifts his weight, throws a leg over Louis’ waist and straddles him, giving friction between their groins when he moves his hips slightly back and forth, leaning down for a kiss. He loves when Harry gets on top of him because he’s so big and broad and strong and he’s everywhere, pinning him down and holding him steady and looming over him like a protective barrier from everything non-Harry related and it just makes him want to disappear inside this big, beautiful boy forever.

When he works his way down and takes Louis’ cock in his mouth, he’s steady and sure and he loves it, Louis can always tell by the way he sucks it all, slurps eagerly and lets him get a bit rough with him, loves having his hair pulled and his mouth fucked into. Sometimes he lets Louis cum on his face too, but today he pulls off early, still giving lazy strokes as he looks up from between a pliant Louis’ legs while heavy pants tumble off of his lips.

“You wanna fuck me now?” Harry offers, licking a stripe from the base up to the tip, flicking his tongue across it, making Louis let out a soft whine as he arches his back up for more.

And he can’t really answer properly with Harry still working him like that, so he just yanks his hair up and pulls him towards his face to mesh their lips together, and it’s sloppy and dirty and desperate and breathy because god, yes, of course he does.

Harry rolls off him, lies on his back and spreads his legs as Louis digs the lube out of their duffel bag and scrambles to get between them and admire the view. Harry all laid out and waiting just for him, hair splayed in all directions on the pillow, eyes sparkling and needy, lankly limbs bent at the knees, hardened cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He gets them off quickly and fits his lips around the prize, licking Harry’s length into his mouth and sucking him with practiced finesse as he coats his fingers and pushes one in, curling and exploring until he can fit two and then three, working him open until he’s impatient for more and Louis’ own cock is aching to give it to him.

He pulls off with an obscenely wet sound and Harry whines a little at the loss of his tongue. He lifts up onto his knees, hiking Harry’s legs up and over his shoulders, and even though Harry’s underneath him now he’s still _everywhere_ , bracketing him on either side, arse resting right in front of him and his hole is right there at the tip of his cock as he generously slicks himself up and suddenly he’s nervous because he’s never done this before and what if he’s no good at it or what if he doesn’t like it or worse, if Harry doesn’t like it.

“You okay?” Harry checks, propping himself up on his forearms to look him in the eyes, gentle and concerned.

“Fine, fine. I just…” He really doesn’t know what to say or how to explain what’s got his mind racing, so thank god Harry knows how to make it all okay.

“Louis, I love you and I love your cock. It’ll be great. Just do whatever feels good.” He reaches for the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss and everything melts away because Harry’s right, and it’s not like he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing, he’s just psyching himself out for no reason. So he swallows a breath and places a hand on Harry’s waist, keeping him still as he pushes in, slow and deliberate, feeling the hot press engulf him inch by inch, groaning when he bottoms out and looks back up at Harry’s face to find him biting down on his lip like it’s about to tear off.

Harry nods, tells him through a labored breath to keep going, so Louis pulls almost all the way out and then pumps back in again, and then once more, marveling at the sight of his length disappearing in Harry’s arse, coming out slicked and glistening, then burying deep again. He works up a rhythm, careful and smooth, and Harry’s writhing beneath him and his moans and whines are choked and needy and little _fuck_ s and _yes_ es and _shit_ s and _god_ s are pouring from his lips. Louis can’t concentrate on anything except how Harry fits around him like a fucking glove and it’s so warm and tight and the coiling in his belly peaks when he thinks how glad he is that Harry is the first one he gets to do this with because he’s beautiful and lovely and Louis loves him so much it’s absolutely magical, he’s seeing stars behind his eyes and he’s not going to last very long.

“Harry, I can’t—‘M gonna—” He warns in between thrusts, “You feel—amazing.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Harry pants, nodding frantically. “Me too—I mean, you too. I just—” Harry bites down on his arm, squints his eyes shut tighter, grunting as Louis keeps fucking into him, faster now, hitting all the right places for both of them.

“Come if you want. Just don’t stop.” He begs, voice coming out in a rushed, raspy breath and that does it; Louis’ knees buckle and his hips jerk and he spills inside, crying out at the feeling of the gush against Harry’s clenched walls as he fills him up. Harry simultaneously strokes himself to release too, splashing thick all over his chest as his whole body shudders and they collapse moments later, Louis sticking himself flat against Harry’s chest while they rest and let their breathing regulate again.

“Fuck, I love you.” Harry’s voice is low and fond as he takes Louis’ face between his hands and kisses him back into breathlessness and Louis can’t even tell him he loves him too, so much it sometimes feels like his heart’s going to burst because there’s not enough room for all of it in his body, but Harry pets his hair and kisses his nose and gives him a pretty dimpled smile that lets him know he understands.

Louis was only partially joking last night when he suggested they spend their last camping day together just having sex in the tent, but that’s how it turns out anyways because neither of them can think of anything else worth leaving it for.

\--

Things are even more unbearable when they have to return to normal life. In his head, he’s still trapped in their little outdoors home, constantly reliving their solitary weekend away from the rest of the world, and it makes everything around seem that much more tedious and dull. There are no flower meadows in the real world, no trickling streams and no late night bonfires or cool mountain air or unusual animals; just work and sleep and forced smiles and impending futures.

Being at his flat is okay because his friends know what’s wrong and they’re understanding and supportive. Their regular hang outs do help elevate his moods a bit, but being at work has somehow become an absolute chore because the guys don’t know him like that, so they take it personally when Louis shuts down, avoids conversation, snaps at them every now and then. They aren’t as willing to joke around with him anymore, fearing they’ll say or do something to upset him and he inevitably feels like a shit person for taking everything out on them, so that contributes to the long list of reasons why he still chooses to skip his shifts some days. He’s honestly surprised Kristen hasn’t fired him yet, and even more surpised at how little he cares if she does, because he _needs_  his job and he used to like it and even looked forward to going in, but now it’s just tension and frustration and another source of stress.

He feels like a failure for not even being able to do a part-time job right, and just at the simple fact that he’s 21, for fuck’s sake. A part-time job for the rest of his life is exactly what he wanted to avoid being stuck in, no matter how easy and flexible it is, it’s not a career and it doesn’t make him happy the way Harry’s does. He can’t stop thinking about their conversation that day, about the future and ambitions and more and more as the weeks pass, he considers going back to school. It’s not that he really wants to, but even his therapist agrees that it might help him to stop feeling so stuck, if he could work towards something more for himself, and completing his degree would give him something to look forward to in the distant future, help keep hope alive. It does make sense, but that doesn’t make him dread it any less, so instead he just mulls it over every day, while medicating himself to near bed riddance and making a conscious effort not to disappear into himself again.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when the smell of fresh baked cookies lures him out of bed. He catches Liam and Niall playing FIFA on the sofa in the living room and spares them a passing greeting as he drifts into the kitchen, where Harry’s pulling a batch of perfectly browned chocolate chip cookies out of the oven to cool.

“Morning, babe,” He kisses him hello, sliding his arms around Louis’ waist and locking his hands behind his back.

“It’s one thirty,” Louis says.

“S’morning to you, sleepyhead.”

“Cookies for breakfast, then?” He sniffs the air, breaking their embrace to make his way over to the pile that’s stacked on a plate, to grab one for himself.

“There was bacon and eggs and toast, actually. I saved you some, but you were still in bed around noon so Niall figured you wouldn’t mind if he took it.” Harry explains.

“And if I did, it’d be too late for me to get it back, anyways.” Louis rolls his eyes. Niall has a million different ways to justify his eating habits, whether it’s someone else’s food or not. “That’s okay though, I haven’t had your cookies in a while.”

“You had my cookies last night.” Harry reminds him, smirking as he’s not talking about actual cookies at all.

“You’re like a twelve year old.” Louis half-chuckles at his dumb innuendo.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do to the authorities, then.”

“’Officer, I swear I didn’t know. He told me he was legal.’” He tries, making Harry crack a smile.

Harry’s phone goes off in his pocket then and he pulls it out to check the screen, glancing for a brief moment before quickly turning it off and sliding it back into place without a word. Louis doesn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

“He’s still calling you?” He inflects, trying not to let the annoyance bubble into his voice. Harry’d promised him there was nothing going on, and he’s been trying not to let his insecurities make him unreasonable, but every now and then he does wonder. Whenever Harry gets home a little later than usual, or if he seems particularly absorbed in texting someone, Louis gets an uneasy feeling in his stomach and he can’t help but fret.

“Nearly every day,” Harry answers, surprisingly, terrifyingly honest. “But I don’t even pick up anymore.”

“Why is he still trying, then?” He wants to believe that, he does. But there’s a warning in his head and a bad feeling in his gut that won’t let him fully accept it because why would he still be calling if Harry never answers?

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him since the last time.” Harry very deliberately doesn’t look at him, focusing instead on transferring the cookies from the baking sheet to the plate, adding new drops of dough in their place.

Louis hesitates for a moment, considering. Harry’s really given him no reason to be suspicious, so all of this anxiety is probably just a result of his own infuriating mind and its ability to ruin nearly anything good by overthinking. Harry does spend most of his free time with him, except when he very occasionally goes out with some of his other friends, usually when Louis sleeps a lot like he has been lately. But he always smells like himself when he comes home and he never acts like he’s got anything to hide, so Louis just chews his frustrations out and tries not to say anything that will start another argument about it.

“You’re upset.” Harry notices anyways.

“I’m trying not to be.” Louis offers. “You said I’ve got nothing to worry about. So I’m not worrying.”

This time Harry’s quiet for a long while, meticulously moving things around on the counter so he still doesn’t have to look Louis in the eyes and okay, _that_ raises some flags. So when his next words are “Lou, there’s something I have to tell you” his heart drops right into his stomach and he feels the wave of nausea before the sentence is even fully out.

“What, Harry?” He demands; some tiny, microscopic part of him clinging to the hope that Harry isn’t about to confess to something that will destroy his entire world.

“You know how I’ve said I’m not good at relationships?” Harry fiddles with his fingers, twisting them around each other, bending them backwards or at the knuckles.

Louis remembers, but he’s only just now realizing that he doesn’t actually know why Harry thinks that. Harry’s always been good to him, and this is actually the best relationship he’s ever been in. They never had a proper ex talk because he figured it didn’t matter what happened in the past, but his tummy pleads in sickness again at the idea that he’s about to find out.

“Well, I guess it’s like, just the commitment part I’m not good at…” Harry starts and there’s a tightening in Louis’ chest and he _knows_ what’s coming next but he doesn’t want to believe it, wants to cover his ears with his hands and block the words from reaching him.

“I um, I cheated. On everyone before you…” Heat. There’s heat and redness everywhere. Heat from anger, embarrassment, foolishness, stupidity, contempt.

“And I, fuck. I fucked up, Louis. I’m so sorry…” And there it is, worse than he even expected because before it was just in his head and it wasn’t really real and there was the off-chance that he was going to say something else, but now Harry’s given the words life and meaning.

Louis feels like he’s watching his whole universe explode into a blinding supernova and all he can do is stand helpless, burning, breathless as it sucks everything in and devours it all in the remaining black hole; stars, meteors, planets, one by one, disappearing into the merciless void.

“It was only once and I didn’t, like, fuck anyone else, he just went down on me and I’m so so sorry and I hate myself for it—”

“You cheated on me.” His voice is flat and dull as his brain struggles to grip the concept that no more than a few weeks ago, he point blank asked him if there was something going on behind his back and Harry’d promised him no and he fucking believed it. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. You’re so sad right now and it kills me and I don’t want to make it any worse, and I don’t want to lose you, but I just can’t keep it from you anymore. It’s maddening, I can’t, I feel fucking awful. I’m so sorry, Louis. I love you so much and I just… I don’t want to lose you. I love you. Please forgive me.” As far as he’s concerned, Harry’s just babbling nonsense that all cheaters seem to have stored away somewhere for when they’re inevitably caught.

“You lied right to my face, Harry.” Louis raises his voice, letting the hurt and anger and betrayal really surge through him now. “When did this happen? You told me you haven’t seen him in months. You’re a fucking liar.”

“It wasn’t Nick.” Harry reveals, and Louis feels his legs weaken. That, he could understand. Weakness around an ex he still obviously cares about. Maybe he could’ve forgiven that eventually, if it really was just one time, but to find out that it was someone else completely unrelated is a fucking guillotine across his stomach, splitting him right in half.

“What the fuck, Harry?” He covers his face with his hands, drags them all the way up and over his head, through his hair, pulling; stressed, enraged, gutted. “Who, then? And when the fuck did it happen? You spend all your time with me, remember? When would you ever get the chance to see someone else behind my back?” He spits, throwing his own lies right back at him, acid and anger.

“I—it was… it happened when we like, first got together. When I used to hang out with Michael a lot—”

“What the fuck,” Louis curses again, feeling it deep in his stomach, fighting the urge to fall to his knees and curl in on himself to somehow protect his insides from the agony of treason by not just his boyfriend, but someone he blindly considered one of his good friends, too. “ _Michael?_ Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I’m so sorry, Lou, it just happened, I—”

“I’m gonna puke.” Louis groans, squeezing his eyes shut tight and hiding his face in his hands as his mind involuntarily floods with images of Harry and Michael touching each other, kissing, licking, panting, begging. Harry giving him all the same treatments, the same soft little moans and desperate sighs that were supposed to be all his now. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

There’s a physical ache in his head as the past months of their relationship plays in his head, everything seeming like a false, fabricated pretense. Every gentle touch, every slow kiss, every cuddle, every laugh, every single word held a hidden secret for Harry and none of it did for him. It was all real for him. He opened himself up, let Harry see the deepest, darkest parts of his mind and trusted him to keep them safe and trusted him to be just as honest and raw with him in return, but if he’s capable of keeping this under wraps for so long, who’s to say any of it was genuine on his part? How much of it actually meant something to him, how much of it was just a game and what would have happened if five years down the road, Harry dropped a bomb like this and by then he’d be in far too deep to run?

Harry instinctively reaches out for him and Louis feels the strong, calloused warmness of a hand on his shoulder, comforting, like Harry even has the ability to comfort him anymore. Like the person standing in front of him isn’t some sort of grotesque, mutant version of the magnificent angel he fell for.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Louis growls, stepping backwards, out of his range. “You’re disgusting. Don’t come near me.”

“Louis, I’m the same person.” Harry pleads, invoking meek, glittering green eyes, as if that will help his case at all. “Look at me. It’s me. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry and if there was anything I could do to take it back I would in a heartbeat, but it only happened that one time and I promise it won’t happen again and I just… just please believe me. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re _sorry?_  What do you want me to do with that, Harry?” He shouts, “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that it happened. It doesn’t mean you haven’t been lying to me this whole fucking relationship. It sure as hell doesn’t make me want to fucking trust you ever again. What was all that bullshit you were spitting about me and my walls, anyways? Did you want to make sure you really got in deep before you ripped my fucking heart out, or what?” He fumes, feeling the tears start to sting the back of his eyes and he wills them to stay hidden because Harry doesn’t get to see that part of him anymore, vulnerable and broken. “This is why I fucking put them up in the first place. I knew you would let me down. I fucking knew it. God, I can’t believe I was so bloody stupid. I can’t believe I actually fucking fell for it!”

“Louis, I never planned for this to happen, and none of what we have is a lie.” Harry claims, but it’s far too late now. Everything he’s saying just sounds like a jumbled mess of meaningless syllables; he can’t be trusted anymore. “This is real. I love you so much, you _know_ that. I do. I love you more than anything and I just—I fucked up, okay? I know I fucked up majorly and I’ve been racking my brain trying to tell you and I’m sick to my stomach, I’d do anything to be able to take it back. I’m so sorry. I used to be that person but it’s not me anymore, I swear. It was just one mistake and I regret it with every single bone in my body, please just believe that. I love you so much.”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t!” Louis objects. “Stop it, stop lying, stop fucking saying you love me. You have no right anymore. This isn’t love. This is not how you’re supposed to treat somebody you love.”

“How can you even say that?” Harry’s eyes are watering now too and some stupid part of Louis has to fight the urge to reach out and cradle him close and kiss his tears away and whisper into his ear that it’s going to be alright, just to stop him from crying because Louis has never actually seen it before and fuck, he hates that it even affects him at all; that he actually still cares and wants to comfort him, doesn’t ever want to see him cry even after he’s just ripped his heart out and stomped it into the ground. “Of course I love you. I love you with everything I’ve got. I made a huge mistake and I’m sorry I can’t be the perfect fucking angel you expect me to be all the time, but don’t try to tell me how I feel. I love you and I care about you and I know I fucked up, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“No, I’m not doing this with you right now.” Louis dismisses his argument, can’t even believe he has the nerve to accuse him of anything right now, when he’s clearly the one at fault. “I don’t want to hear any of it. Just go.”

“You can’t kick me out, we need to talk about this.” Harry argues.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, get out of my fucking flat, Harry!” Louis yells, and it’s so ridiculous but there are cookies on the counter and he needs to throw something at this stupid fucking monster of a boy who’s just completely wrecked him, so he grabs a handful and chucks them at his head as hard as he can and Harry flinches, but doesn’t make any moves to leave so he keeps shouting, hoping he’ll get the message and go away. “I don’t even want to look at you right now, much less fucking _talk_ about this. Go!”

“You really want me to leave?” Harry sounds tiny and sad but Louis feels tinier and sadder so he’s got no room for sympathy or compassion right now, it’s all hurt and rage and heartbreak.

“Yes, I fucking want you to leave! Get out!” He surges forward, pushing hard against his chest and sending him stumbling back a few steps. “Leave me alone. Don’t call, don’t text, and don’t you dare even show your fucking face around here anymore. Just leave me alone.”

“That’s it, then?” Harry’s voice raises this time, booms through the tiny space as the tears really come now, a few of them making a hasty escape down his reddened cheeks, sending shivers down Louis’ spine. “After all we’ve been through, you’re gonna end it, just like that? Like it doesn’t even mean anything to you?”

“Don’t you fucking try to blame this on me!” He rages, pushing him again, moving him closer towards the door. “This is all your fault, you absolute ass! You ruined everything! Get the fuck out!”

“I know it’s my fault, but I was hoping we could try work through it, at least.” Harry admits, voice cracking as he wipes the water from his face with the back of his hands, struggling to hold back more tears from falling. “I’ll do anything to make this up to you; you know that, don’t you? Anything. Whatever it takes, however long it takes to make you trust me again, I’ll do it. Just please don’t go. I love you so much. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You are.” Louis dismisses, voice coming out calmer and smoother than he’d expected. He feels drained already, physically from the yelling, emotionally from the torturous ticking in the back of his head like a metronome keeping the beat: He cheated. He cheated. He cheated. Harry’s eyes are pleading and panicked as they stare back at him, but Louis can’t give him any sympathy when there’s a claw gripped tight around his own heart, piercing and suffocating and tempting him to stop it.

Still, he can’t hold his gaze, has to let his eyes fall to the floor when he finally tells him, clear and strong, “Get out of my house and stay out of my life. _I don’t want to see you anymore._ Just go.”

A long, heavy silence lingers between them as Harry gathers himself and Louis can feel him waiting for something more, waiting for him to change his mind and tell him he can stay and that he forgives him and it’ll all be okay. But Louis won’t do that, no matter how badly he wants it all to be okay, he knows it won’t be because he can’t even face Harry without the pain searing right through his chest and the only thing he wants more than everything to be okay right now is for Harry to get out of his sight.

“Okay,” Harry finally resigns, quiet and defeated. “I’ll go. If that’s what you really want.”

Louis doesn’t feel the need to say any stupid goodbyes. He just turns on his heel and dashes to the safety of his room, away from Harry and his bullshit tears, and the walls rattle with the force of him slamming the door shut. He hears Harry make his exit only a few beats later, and then the silence of an ended relationship and an eerily empty bedroom creeps over him and the broken sobs come instantly. His body can’t even handle the intensity of it; he falls to his knees and then onto his haunches and cries into his hands, letting it all sink in.

No more Harry. Just like that, it’s over and he’s gone and that’s the end of it. 

He can’t believe everything went from being so perfect, from them being completely immersed in each other in the woods, making plans to run away to Paris someday, falling back into every day life with a new appreciation for each other and Harry being just as attentive and adoring as usual, to this utter chaos that led to him having no choice but to get rid of the single most important person in his life, all in a matter of one afternoon.

He has a feeling it won’t be the last time he ever _sees_ him, but he knows it’s the last time he’ll ever be with him and it’s so stupid he’ll never admit it out loud, but he hasn’t thought about killing himself like this in so long. He considers it every day, but as he eventually crawls into bed and bundles himself in the covers, drenches his pillow with salty tears cried over a stupid fucking lying asshole of a guy that he blindly trusted with everything, all he can think of is ways to escape this soul crushing pain and there’s only one answer, the one he always comes back to when things get this despaired.

Every single time he lets himself be happy and think maybe there is something worth staying alive for in this dull existence, the world yanks it out from under him, knocks him down a few pegs, spits in his eye and kicks dirt on his helpless, keeled over form, like a bully on a schoolyard playground. What’s the point of trying to fight back when they’re so much bigger and stronger than you and they’re just relentless when it comes to making your life a living hell?

Liam knocks on the door at some point, once his tortured sobs have settled into nothing but pitiful whimpers. It occurs to him then that he and Niall were here for the whole thing, probably hid in him and Zayn’s room when things started getting loud, but still, they must have heard everything.

Liam offers his shoulder and asks if there’s anything he can get for him, but Louis just shouts back that he wants to be left alone.

He cries himself into exhaustion, managing to drift off for a few hours of sleep, and it’s dark when he wakes up and his bed feels uncomfortably empty. He’s used to having Harry filling the space next to him at night, and he curses himself for letting that stupid head of curls sneak his way into basically living here because now even though he’s gone, he’s still everywhere. His sheets and his pillow reek of Harry’s distinctly floral stench and it’s suddenly revolting, almost as much as the few stray petals he notices on the edge of the bed, and the permanent dip in the mattress that curves to his shape, and the ink on his skin that he got for Harry’s stupid nickname is suddenly burning a hole right through him. Harry is literally never going away and he’s going to be impossible to forget and it’s all completely tormenting to even think about.

He really doesn’t want to be remembered as the poor sap who killed himself over a stupid fucking guy, but he’s just not strong enough to be fully aware of the world right now. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and grabs a handful of pills to swallow, convincing himself he’s not trying to die, but agreeing that if he happens to, it wouldn’t be such a huge disappointment to wake up in some sort of afterlife, or even better, to not wake up at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ouch. okay. well, there it is. before anyone freaks out, louis is not dead. and also i think it's fair to mention that we're only about two chapters from the end now. maybe three, if i feel it's needed, but either way it'll all be wrapped up fairly soon so just be aware!
> 
> comments comments comments, pretty please and pretty thank you~


	18. That's what you get when you let your heart win

He gives himself two whole days. Two days to stay in bed, two days to let the tears flow freely, two days to avoid talking about it and just about everything else in the world. And even though on day three he wakes up and immediately wants to allow himself more days, weeks, months, years even, to just lay there and torture himself with memories of broken promises that sounded so sweet and genuine once upon a time, and cry until there are no more tears left and he shrivels up and whithers away to nothing to match how small and dead he feels inside, he won’t.

He thought he’d go back to the way he was before he met Harry, when he was numb to the world and barely even a presence in his own life, let alone anyone else’s, but he feels different now somehow. Harry was always there to take care of him on his bad days, but now he’s probably off doing whatever he did before they met; smoking and socializing and fucking and actually have a life of his own, and Louis doesn’t want to sit at home and cry over him while he’s out with his cock in some girl’s wherever doing whatever. He doesn’t want to need to be taken care of anymore and especially not by stupid Harry with his stupid fucking curls and his dumb dimpled smile and those goddamn perfect arms that used to keep him safe when the world was mean. He wants to learn how to take care of himself for once in his miserable life, and he’s hellbent on making it happen.

So when he wakes up early the next day and drags himself into the kitchen, where he catches his flat mates before they’ve even made an attempt to get ready for work, he’s met with three pairs of widened eyes and one scruffy jaw hung loosely open in utter disbelief.

“Okay, let’s just get it over with.” He groans, anticipating a storm of prying questions. He’s been tactically avoiding them the past couple days, leaving his room only to use the bathroom and only when he was absolutely sure they weren’t around. Every concern yelled through the door has either gone ignored or been brushed off with a simple “leave me alone”; he’s been quite the child about it, really. He needed to cry and he needed to wallow and he didn’t want to see anyone and even though he’s reconsidering all of this and wants to give in to his natural instinct to hide under his covers from the scrutinzing eyes of others, he does his best to swallow his suffering and put on a brave face.

“Lou, are you feeling okay?” Liam jumps in instantly.

“Fine.” He manages.

“You haven’t left your room for days.” Niall objects.

“Just two.” Louis shrugs it off. “I’ve been worse.” And he has, when Harry was still around, even. Two measly little days is nothing compared to what could have been.

“Which is why we’re wondering how the fuck you’re standing here right now when, based on your track record, you shouldn’t even be close to getting out of bed any time soon.” Zayn explains.

“Look, I just…” Louis sighs, lets his voice get quiet because he’s thinking about it now, about how awful it was to yell in Harry’s face, to see him cry, to make him leave. He’s thinking about going back to bed and trying to sleep and medicate himself through the fact that Harry’s out there doing god knows what with god knows who because he can because _they aren’t together anymore_ , but going back to bed has never really made anything better. It’s just helped him avoid it all, and maybe he doesn’t want to avoid things anymore. Maybe avoiding things is what got him here in the first place. Maybe if he’d realized what he was doing wrong before, if he wouldn’t have neglected Harry so much, maybe Harry wouldn’t have felt like he needed his cock sucked by someone else while they were still together.

“I’m trying, okay?” He finally says, after a prolonged pause. “I don’t want to be that way anymore. I want to be someone who can deal with things, cause, you know, that’s just life and I have to get used to it. Sometimes people cheat. Sometimes people break up. And Harry and I are just people, and it’s my fault for thinking we were some kind of exception, but I can’t just hide from everything in my room for the rest of my life. I’m sick of it. It’s not working anyways. It just brings me down even more and lets me dwell too much on how badly I want to die.”

“Oh, Louis,” Of course Liam is the one to coo his sympathies as he comes forward to pull Louis in for a hug and pet his hair in comfort. He’s not Harry, but he’s warm and strong and Louis’ head fits on his chest in a way that’s reminiscent of the way it did on Harry’s and he has to pull away before he starts crying again because he promised himself he wouldn’t anymore, decided that he’d allotted himself enough tears for the stupid boy with stupid flowers in his stupid hair.

“So what are you saying, then?” Zayn treads carefully. “You’re just gonna… not be depressed anymore?”

“I’m saying, will one of you please come shopping with me today because retail therapy is better than actual therapy and if I’m left alone I’ll probably just crawl back into bed and waste more tears on my stupid ex-boyfriend?” He pouts his bottom lip out for added effect.

“I’m in.” Niall agrees immediately, and Liam seconds his declaration.

“I already gave Liam the day off anyways,” Zayn snatches his phone off the counter and starts keying a new text. “I’ll just get someone to cover my shift. Being the boss is fucking awesome.”

“Don’t you have appointments, though?” Louis checks. “If these two are coming, I don’t want you to have to drop everything for me.”

“But if they weren’t, it’d be fine?” Zayn teases. “Some people won’t mind seeing someone else, and I can always reschedule the rest. Perrie will hate me for all the calls she’ll have to make, but she can shove it. I’m not missing guy’s day out.”

Louis doesn’t really have extra money to spend, what with how many days he’s skipped at work lately, but he’s never really been responsible with his money and he’s got an ache in his chest that can only be soothed by shopping bags full of new clothing and quality time spent with his best mates. He only catches the tears coming once all day, when they’re taking a lunch break at Subway. He catches a whiff of the girl ordering her sandwich ahead of them and she smells like artificial flowers but it’s close enough to Harry’s familiar stink that his brain dregs up the memory of the first time he ever got to press himself against Harry’s bare chest for the night and he was everywhere and his skin smelled so pure and clean and pretty. He tries to force it out of his mind, but it’s too late and the tears are threatening to spill over and the only way to stop them is to wipe his eyes, which snaps his friends into alertness.

He can feel their eyes on him as they get their food and find a table to sit at, and before they can even open their sandwiches, Liam’s doing what he does best, being caring and interested.

“Lou, I know you don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but you loved him.” He rests a heavy hand on his shoulder in comfort. “You should vent a little. It’s not good to hold things inside.”

He used to be exactly the type to hold things inside, and part of him still wants to be that way and wants to keep shutting everyone out because he’s learned the hard way again and again that you let people in and they don’t just hurt, they destroy. But these are the people he basically grew up with, and if he’s going to start getting better about talking about things and letting his feelings out, who better to do it with than these three lads?

“Fine, okay, you wanna know what really gets me?” He starts, and three pairs of eyes look at him expectantly. “I don’t know if it makes me mad, or sad, or hurt or whatever, I guess it’s all three, but what I don’t understand is that he fucking knew better than anyone how I am. Better than you guys, even. I like, really let him in and told him things about me and how my fucking head is and what it’s like to want to die every single day of my life, and he knew, he _knew_ exactly how bad it was and it’s like he just fucking shat all over it.”

He’d been thinking about it for days, but somehow actually saying it out loud made it sound that much worse and the stabbing pain of the realization of just how fucking terrible it was is like pulling out the wrong Jenga piece and watching the whole tower come tumbling down on him in a wave of fury and agony.

“Like, you’d think knowing that your boyfriend is on the verge of a mental breakdown at any given moment is enough to make you want to be extra careful and try your best not to do something that would hurt him or make it any worse like, I don’t know, fuck one of his friends and break his goddamn heart, but no, apparently not.” He rambles, fuming, “And then on top of that, he acts like this fucking wounded little puppy about it, like, ‘oh I’m so sorry and I love you and I never meant to hurt you’ and fucking crying in front of me, like he ever even gave an actual shit about how I feel. It’s like, if you never meant to hurt me, then why didn’t you stop it from happening? He fucking knew what he was doing was wrong, but he did it anyway! That’s just like a big ‘fuck you’ to me. It makes it seem like everything else he ever said was just lies and bullshit. He may as well have actually reached into my chest and pulled my heart out and ripped it in half; it would probably hurt less than this.”

It’s still too fresh in his mind for him to be ready for any kind of solid advice or opinions, and thankfully they all seem to understand that and just give him what he needs right now, which is to hear that Harry’s an asshole and he deserves better and every other cliche in the book.

“You know I don’t trust people easily, but I thought…” Louis pauses with a sigh. “I really thought this was it. Even you guys liked him and like, he fit in and I just saw him being like, another person I could count on, like you lot. You’ve always been great to me. You’re always there to understand and help me deal with shit and I mean, we fight sometimes, but none of you have ever done something that you knew would fucking gut me. That’s all I ever wanted from him, and I really don’t think it’s too much to ask from someone who supposedly cares.”

“We have royally fucked up before, though.” Niall reminds him. “Remember the time Zayn first found your pills and he thought you were turning into a tweaker so he flushed the whole bottle to cut you off?”

“Really, Ni? Okay, well how about the time Jay made those holiday cookies for our class party in 7th grade and you ate them all the night before, so Louis got grounded for 2 weeks because of it?” Zayn retaliates.

“Hey! What about just last year when Z’s car was in the shop so he borrowed yours and crashed it?” Niall backfires to Louis.

“I paid for the repairs!” Zayn defends. “And let’s not forget the time Niall brought that one girl home and fucked her in Lou’s bed cause he was too drunk to realize it wasn’t his, and she ended up puking on the sheets.”

“Alright, alright, we get it. You’ve both made mistakes over the years.” Liam mediates.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one so easy.” Niall drags him into it. “Remember the time Liam thought it would be funny to draw a huge cock on Lou’s face when he was sleeping and send it as a mass text to everyone in his contacts, including his _mum_ and _nan_?”

The four of them can’t help but burst into laughter at the memory, even Louis, because looking back, he was pretty drunk that night and it was a pretty good prank, save for the fact that his mum ended up giving him a firm lecture the next day about “knowing your limit” that soon escalated into a rant on drinking and driving. His nan hadn’t even figured out how to read texts on her “portable phone” yet, so thankfully he was able to delete it before she even opened it.

“Maybe you guys aren’t the best friends after all…” Louis reconsiders, teasing.

“You’ve done your fair share of damage, too.” Niall says, always an expert at making sure everyone feels included. “I’m still waiting for my new beats headphones you owe me, since you took mine in the fucking shower like a month after I got them, you arse.”

“I didn’t know! They can block sound and amplify music to make it sound like you’re front row at a fucking private arena show, but they’re not waterproof? Everything is waterproof nowadays! Even _make-up_ is waterproof, yet something that’s actually useful isn’t. Fucking technology.” Louis scoffs.

“How about the time,” Liam’s laughing before he can even finish his sentence, has to pause for a moment to collect himself enough to continue, “The time he borrowed Zayn’s favorite jeans in tenth grade and they were so tight on his arse it ripped a hole in the bum.”

That memory earns a laugh from the rest of them, too. Louis had to walk around with a hoodie tied around his waist all day, and Zayn wouldn’t even talk to him for a week after that.

“Or when he put glue in Liam’s shoes and Liam didn’t even notice until he took them off later and his socks came right with them.” Niall says, and they all spitball off him and keep up the retelling of memories of them doing the most ridiculous shit to each other over the years, and soon enough Louis is clutching his sides and holding back tears for good reasons, because these are his friends and they have so much history; ups and downs that they’re able to poke fun at now that all it’s done is strengthen their bond as time passes. They’re actually more like brothers to him, really, because they’ve been together through so much and he calms down a bit with the realization that of course he’s going to get through this as long as he’s still got them to lean on.

As much as he wishes he could have Harry be part of the group of people he trusts with his entire life, to help pick him back up every time he falls down, to give him space when he needs it and to be there for him when he needs it and to laugh with him when needs it, having just the three of them is more than he ever expected from the world and he’s so grateful it almost feels wrong to be upset over anything else right now.

“I love you guys.” He blurts then. “I feel like I don’t say it enough, but you’re the best lads a lad could ever ask for.”

“Lad, you’re the best lad a lad could ever lad.” Niall’s expression is stone cold as he says the ridiculous sentence.

“Lads, lads, come on! We’re all the best lads of all the lads, that’s why we became each other’s lads.” Zayn jumps in.

“Enough, lads!” Liam silences, and they all grin at each other and how easy it is to just be dumb and goof off and then go right back to being serious and heartfelt again.

Niall’s head falls over onto Louis’ shoulder and he looks up at him with bright blue irises. “Seriously though, we love you too man.”

A pause lingers as they all take a moment to silently appreciate each other and their tight knit little group, and then Niall says, “The word ‘lads’ sounds really weird now.” And the three of them laugh again in agreement and Louis feels like his feet are stuck in quicksand but there’s a whole team of lads working to pull him out before he gets in too deep. It’s dangerous and frightening, but they’re there, they’re helping, and it may take a while, but they’re all fighting just as hard to keep him alive as he is.

\--

The rest of the week is easy—way too easy. He’s still avoiding work because he just isn’t ready to see Michael yet, but keeping busy. Niall tries to teach him how to play guitar the next day, but Louis is too stubborn and impatient to put in much effort without a lot of fuss, so they give up and play FIFA all day and then the four of them go to a Uni party later that night. He visits Zayn and Liam and the shop the day after, but it occurs to him that Harry could walk in at any moment and that’s not a chance he wants to take, so he stays away after that and finds other things to occupy his time.

He offers to babysit the girls for his mum while she goes out with some of her friends, and Phoebe and Daisy ask about Harry but he just tells them he’s not around anymore (adding that he misses them very much, because he just can’t stand the crushed looks on their identical little faces). He talks to Lottie about what happened and he even lets himself cry again and she wipes his tears and tells him he’s so strong and she’s so proud of him every day, and he tells her how proud he is of her too, for growing up so gracefully into such a wonderful person, and then she changes the subject to happier things again. She tells him about all the shows she's been watching on Netflix and after he puts the twins to bed, they settle in on the couch and stay up until 2am catching up on missed reruns of New Girl.

But bad days are never few and far between. His phone alarm wakes him up one morning, alerting him to what would have been his and Harry’s five months together, and he remembers one time when they were laying on his bed, high on pot and love and each other, and Harry randomly reached for his phone and started programming the 2nd of every month so they wouldn’t forget because he really can be a cheesy fucking romantic fool sometimes. Then he’s thinking about things like Harry bringing him breakfast in bed on the especially bad days where he wouldn’t even leave his room and he’d snap about how crumbs will get in the sheets, and Harry would just smile and kiss him and assure him that he’d change them after, and he should just relax because he’s sick and just let Doctor Harry make him feel better.

And suddenly he doesn’t want to get out of bed again. He just wants to lay there, and he wants a warm body next to him, but not just any warm body, he wants Harry’s body. His lean limbs and his creamy skin and the butterfly on his tummy and the way it rose and fell with his faint little sleepy snores, but Harry’s not there anymore and he won’t be there ever again and why can’t a bottomless trench just open up in the floor beneath him and swallow him whole and dump him into another universe where boys don’t eat your insides for dinner and monsters don’t make homes in the back of your head?

He stumbles out of bed when the dorbell rings at half four. He’s in his sweats and a ratty old tee shirt and he can only imagine what sort of tornado situation he’s got going on on his head, but he really doesn’t care. Until he answers the door and Ashton’s standing there and his jaw sort of goes slack and Louis feels his face flush as he reaches up to hastily sort out his hair.

“What are you doing here?” He wonders, weakly.

“We were worried about you,” Ashton unfolds his arms to scoop him in for a bear hug and he’s so big and tall and strong that it reminds Louis too much of a boy with flowers in his hair and nothing in his heart.

“I’m fine.” Louis wiggles his way out of the embrace.

“We’re used to you skipping out sometimes, but no one’s even heard anything from you all week. You just fell off the face of the earth. We thought something might have happened.”

“Well, I’m _fine_.” Louis says again, impatient.

“Really? You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks. You came all the way over here just to tell me that?”

Ashton hesitates, nervously chews his bottom lip for a second, choosing his next words carefully. “Lou, are you alright? You’ve been acting sort of different lately and I miss you—I mean, we all do.”

He’s so kind and pure, intentions coming from the best of places, and all along he’s never done anything but be nice and understanding, that in that moment, Louis realizes what a true friend he is. It’s not like with Harry, where he had to tread carefully and analyze and wonder if he could be trusted; something in him just knows Ashton is safe because it’s never been in his nature to hurt or upset anyone. And he could always use another shoulder to cry on, and it’s not like he’s got anything else to lose, so he figures it’s okay to let his guard down a bit.

“Harry and I broke up.” He tells him, and Ashton’s lips and eyebrows immediately turn down in an expression of sympathy and concern that just can’t be faked.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry to hear that.” He’s always suspected Ashton still has feelings for him, but if he does he’s good at not letting them show now, tucks them away somewhere in favor of being a genuinely supportive and caring friend. “Did he say why? Or did you… I mean, what happened?”

“I dumped him. He cheated on me.” Louis sniffles a little, trying not to let the waterworks start up again at the memories.

“Oh.” Ashton’s face somehow falls even more.

“I can’t work with Michael. I don’t want to see him.” He explains.

“You mean it was just that once with Mike?”

“You knew about it?” Louis pulls away, suddenly reconsidering everything he thought about Ashton being a good friend.

“Well, yeah. He told me when it happened.” Ashton looks apprehensive.

Lies, lies, lies. Apparently everyone he knows is a dirty, fucking liar; they’re all pros at keeping secrets and Louis is a terrible judge of character.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me then?” He spits.

“Louis, come on.” Ashton soothes, “It’s not like I didn’t want to, but… your ex fling who’s still into you, telling you that the guy you left me for fooled around behind your back… Would you have even believed me?”

He considers that for a moment, not missing the little stutter his heart gives at the words _who’s still into you_. He knows he wouldn’t have believed it, wouldn’t have wanted to. Probably would have shunned Ashton from his already short list of friends for even trying to come between them like that. It really is something that Ashton knows him well enough to predict how he would’ve reacted.

“I might have confronted him about it, at least.” He says anyway, stubborn as ever.

“I didn’t want to stir anything up. Your love life isn’t really my business anymore.” Ashton defends. “And I thought… I don’t know, you guys were kind of… not terrible together, I guess.” He shrugs nonchalantly at the reluctant admission. “I liked seeing you happy. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

He remembers Harry saying something similar when they first got together, about how he could tell Louis was happy with Ashton, but he just couldn’t let them be together. He had to ruin it for his own selfish desires. Yet, when Ashton had the chance to return the gesture and break the two of them up, he bit his tongue all this time just to keep Louis in his ignorant bliss.

“Did you say you still have feelings for me?” He almost whispers.

“Sorry, I’ve tried not to.” Ashton’s cheeks flush a soft pink. “I’ve done alright at keeping things friendly, yeah? Haven’t really made things weird between us, I hope.”

Louis nods. “No, you haven’t. I kind of thought you might still like me, but I was never sure and I didn’t want to make things weird by asking. I still don’t understand why you would feel that way in the first place, though. I’m…” An entire montage of his and Harry’s relationship flashes before his eyes in a brief second; all the times he pushed Harry away and how often he checked out from the world around him and everything he did that made Harry want to cheat in the first place. He feels like the last little baby bird in the nest, abandoned by its mother for its lack of flying ability. Pathetic and sad and alone and unwanted.

“You’re amazing.” Ashton assures him, reaching out to caress his cheek, just like Harry used to. “Every time you step into a room it lights up, and every time you smile or laugh it gets even brighter. You’re so much fun and you’re brilliant and beautiful and you deserve someone who appreciates that.”

It’s so reminiscent of the things Harry used to say and it fills him with a confusing mix of wistful longing and warm fuzzy butterflies. Despite everything Ashton’s had to put up with since they met; their falling apart before they even really fell together, having to watch him date someone else while still harboring these feelings for him, putting up with his bitching and mood swings on bad days, after all this time he’s still got Louis on the same pedestal he himself used to have for Harry and it’s so lovely to be that revered and he’s just so wounded and empty that he can’t help but gravitate towards this affection.

Before he can hesitate to think about what he’s doing, he surges forward to bring their lips together and Ashton instantly melts right into it, kissing back with all the fire and passion he never felt during all those playful make-out sessions in back rooms and car seats and the couch at band practice. All of that was fun and he liked it, but this is want and desperation and magma slowly filling all the cracks Harry left in his fissured heart. It’s magnetic and delicious; familiar because he remembers kissing these very same lips dozens of times before, but also feral and exciting because it never felt like _this_.

It doesn’t last more than a few moments before Ashton moans in protest against his mouth and lightly pushes against his shoulders to break them apart.

“No, I can’t.” He says, flicking his tongue across his bottom lip in contradicting temptation.

“Why?” Louis can feel the sting at the back of his eyes and fuck, he hates that he can’t seem to control his tears anymore, that the tiniest things make him want to cry and hide his face from the world. “You said you liked me.”

“I do, god, I do. I like you so much it honestly drives me crazy sometimes.” He reassures, reaching out to clasp Louis’ hand between the two of his much larger ones. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pictured this moment. I mean, you wanting me again… but I don’t want it to happen like this. You’re hurt, Louis. You need time to heal and I’m happy to be your friend through it, however long it takes, but I can’t be your rebound. I want you to be with me because you like me too, not just because you’re lonely.”

“I do like you.” Louis admits, voice hushed. He never really did get over Ashton; he just had someone he cared about infinitely more around to distract his feelings from growing anymore, but they were always there, every time Ashton sang his greeting, or licked his lips the way he sometimes does before he talks, or when his cheeks bore their craters to frame his sunny smile, and every time the two of them had to wipe away actual tears from a fit of synchronized laughter. He always felt that little pang of _oh, you’re just so wonderful and I wish I could kiss you right now_ , but acting on it was absolutely out of the question, so instead he just buried it deep somewhere it couldn’t take control. He feels a hot flash of anger directed at Harry for his inability to show the same restraint.

“Well, if you still feel that way after a while, then we’ll talk about it.” Ashton smiles slightly and it’s enough to bring the dimples to life and it makes Louis’ heart flutter in the saddest of ways. “But for now, I’m here to be a friend to you and nothing more. No matter how badly I wanted to keep kissing you, or how strongly I’m trying not to right now.”

“Don’t try.” Louis pleads, light and teasing this time, as he cracks a small smile. “You know you can’t resist my sweet, sweet lips.” He quotes him from the pool party, back when things were still easy between them and Harry had barely even started to dig his claws in and shred the two of them apart and Louis’ world into pieces.

Ashton chuckles at the memory. “Double sweet is right, but you don’t know my strength. I’m like the fuckin’ Hercules of willpower.”

“Funny, I always had a crush on him, too.” Louis grins.

“Lucky guy.” Ashton grins back.

\--

The first time he sees Harry again is a few days later.

He’s gone back to work now, only after talking to Kristen about purposefully not scheduling him with Michael because he’s still not ready to deal with that aspect of it all. He takes on his day shifts with Ashton again, falling back into their usual shenanigans, albeit a little less rowdy due to Louis’ shit mood, but he’s trying harder to be okay than he ever has before so he refuses to let himself take it out on people who don’t deserve it. He keeps it mostly to himself and his therapist, venting in the privacy of his own room after everyone’s already long asleep.

He realizes one night that Harry’s stuff is still cluttered everywhere; the bathroom, the kitchen, his bedroom. There’s really not that much of it to begin with, but the fact that any of it still lingers is a big neon red sign flashing in his face and it feels suffocating, like it’s taking up too much space in his head and his heart and his home, so he has to get rid of it.

He gathers all of Harry’s clothes from the closet and shoves them in a box, tossing in other things like his weird vegan health foods and floral shampoos (as if he needs any help smelling like fucking flowers anyway) and borrowed DVDs and just for good measure, and because he kind of wants it to really sting him when he looks inside, he throws in all the stupid playlists up to “Louis #24” in a sloppy pile on top of it. He considers dumping the box off the balcony and just letting the wind take care of it, but decides instead to set it on the kitchen table because he just doesn’t have it in him to be that crude. Still, as much as he infuriatingly craves Harry’s company on a momentary basis, he wants to avoid facing him again for as long as he possibly can.

_You can come pick up your stuff tomorrow, while everyone’s at work. Leave your key on the table. Don’t reply to this._

He sends the text and moments later it flashes “Read at 11:32pm” underneath the speech bubble, like Harry was just waiting by the phone to hear something from him. He starts to type something back, but intelligently decides otherwise and the three little dots at the bottom of the screen retreat and Louis goes to bed feeling like a jumbled mess of everything and nothing, all at once.

When he gets home the next day, the box is still there and so is Harry and Louis swears his heart actually stops at the sight of him. He’s got an arrangement of pink and white on his head; roses, probably because he knows they’re his favorite. Winter’s too cold for tee shirts and bare toes but he’s clad in a simple white sweater that’s snug against his broad chest and he’s even stuck his feet in a pair of dingy looking ankle boots that must be at least a thousand years old and are probably the only pair of shoes he owns. He looks magnificent and Louis is just Louis, as always, and his heart clenches at the realization of how dumb he was to think that someone like Harry would ever want to keep someone as comparatively average as himself.

Harry’s just sitting at the kitchen table, holding one of the cased discs marked “Louis #17”, and he looks up when Louis steps inside and when he catches those sparkling emeralds it feels like his lungs have suddenly shrunk inside his chest, preventing him from proper breathing.

“I made these for you, you know.” Harry’s voice is just as deep and slow and completely earthshattering as he remembers. It sets his heart on fire and burns it to ashes in a matter of seconds. “You don’t have to give them back. They’re yours now.”

“I don’t want them.” Somehow he manages to find his voice, but it comes out sounding crooked and weird and feels like it belongs to someone else. “If you don’t take them, I’ll just end up throwing them away.”

“Do it, then.” Harry says. “You can do whatever you want with them.”

“Why are you still here?” Louis can feel the anger building inside him, almost more powerful than the absolute misery of having to see Harry looking so perfect and luminescent all while knowing it’s just a ruse to get people to fall for him so he can slowly devour their hearts later.

“It’s only been a few minutes.” He claims. “I came here as soon as I got off. Bad timing, I guess. Sorry.”

“Well, you need to leave now. I told you I don’t want to see you again.” Louis commands, slow and sincere.

“Can we please just talk about this?” Harry tries, suspiciously, disgustingly gentle and sweet and Louis feels like he’s being lured into a snake habitat, but he’d never dare take the bait and risk losing whatever’s left of all he had.

“What’s there to talk about?” He challenges. “You’re a liar and a cheater and you proved to me that I can’t actually trust you after all. It is what it is.”

“All I’m asking for is a chance to make it up to you. It kills me that I ruined us and that I let you down and that you’re so hurt and it’s all my fault. Please, just let me fix it.” Harry pleads. “I love you so much and I know you still love me too and I just want us to be together. I just want to be the reason for your smiles again.”

The words tug on the invisible strings of his heart and he wants to, so badly. He imagines giving in and just brushing his indiscretion under the rug in favor of getting those chaotically inked arms to hold him again, feeling those plush lips pressed hot against his own, letting the longing for bare skin and urgent breaths take over and bring him back to this beautiful, wild creature who crushed him so easily in the palm of his hand. He actually considers it for a moment, but it’s gone in a fleeting second with the memory of the last time they saw each other, all tears and pain and madness and he can’t. He just can’t overlook that and he can’t let himself fall back under Harry’s dangerous spell again.

“Well, I don’t want to be with you anymore.” The words come out sounding softer and weaker than he’s trying for, but at least he’s saying them. At least he’s standing his ground. “So can you please just leave me alone? You have your things now; there’s no reason for us to do this anymore. Just go, so I can move on, please.”

Harry visibly struggles to hold back his tears, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he literally swallows them down to keep them from falling.

“Sorry.” His apology is just as faint as Louis’ rejection was. “I had to try, at least. I guess I won’t bother you anymore though, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Louis maintains.

“Okay, well…” Harry’s looking at him with deep green that’s screaming and begging for forgiveness and Louis almost feels bad for him until he reminds himself that it was his own choice to hook up with someone else behind his boyfriend’s back so this is all his doing and he doesn’t deserve sympathy for any of it. “Goodbye then, I guess… Just, I want you to know I’ll always love you, and you can always come to me if… I mean, I’ll always be here for you. Even if you don’t want me anymore. If you ever need anything, or just someone to talk to when things get bad, please don’t forget me.”

Harry must know he’s not ever going to take him up on that offer, but the fact that he even went there means he still has some small shred of hope left in him. Despite Louis’ best efforts, there is a bit of sympathy that Harry’s so clearly upset by this, but his gloominess and regret just isn’t enough to make up for the unbearable torment of betrayal and shattered trust and love and hope. He doesn’t want to be mean to him anymore, but he can’t be nice about it either. Harry needs to get the point that yes, it’s really over and no, he doesn’t need him for anything anymore. He’s doing an alright job of keeping himself together now, even without him.

“Bye, Harry.” Is all he can manage in response. He hates these stupid break-up goodbyes; they’re just uncomfortable and sad and he thought Harry’d already torn his heart to pieces but apparently there’s still something left to ruin because he feels it ripping again.

He sticks his hand out, palm up, and Harry places his key in it and Louis’ stomach drops right into his knees when their skin touches and he has to fight to ignore the yearning to latch onto it, just to feel what it’s like one last time. Harry makes his exit with one last look, big puppy eyes framed by long fluttery lashes and brows tilted down in distress and Louis frigidly shuts the door behind him without a word and that’s the end of that. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as usual and i love you all for always commenting and being such wonderful readers. <3


	19. The best part of me was always you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, thank you so much for your kindness and patience and dedication. i love you all please enjoy xx

It’s been months since they’ve seen each other and more than a year since they met and fell in love and fell apart. The flowers are blooming again after what’s absolutely been the longest winter of his life and they remind him of the beginning of last spring, when things weren’t much different than they are now. That’s something Louis thinks about a lot; how in the span of only one year, he somehow came full circle and now he’s right back where he started, sad and lonely and trying to save himself from drowning.

He’s trying harder than he ever has before. He refuses to let himself give up. He forces himself to get out of bed every day and _do things_. He goes to work. He goes out with his friends. He attends all his scheduled therapy sessions. He starts spending more time with his family again, even babysits the girls on a regular basis. He even puts more consideration into going back to school. Anything to keep from becoming a stagnant, useless zombie.

Trying on the outside doesn’t really make a difference when he’s already given up on the inside, though. He’s more or less come to terms with the fact that this is his life and it’s only average, yet increasingly difficult and it’s always been this way and it’s never going to be anything but. He’s always going to wake up feeling heavy and he’s always going to go to bed feeling hollow. He’s always going to notice the contrast between the laughter coming from his lips and the emptiness in his chest. He’s always going to have to put on a mask and pretend everything’s okay, because he’s learned from experience that no matter how much people care about you or support you through your sadness, most of them just don’t know what to do when you come to them in tears with a confession of how often you think about dying. Only Harry did.

Harry knew how to hold him just close enough and just tight enough to form a shield amidst the hypnotizing lull of his fresh scent, that somehow kept the morbid thoughts from teasing his brain. Harry knew how to listen, he crawled himself inside of Louis’ words when he rambled about his sadness and he would get in and somehow clean up, saying things that filled him with so much love he forgot how it felt to be this broken. Harry knew there was always something bothering him, so he took care of the little things that still bring Louis so much stress on a daily basis; things like laundry and cooking and picking up his room, things he has to fight his darkness just to have the energy to get up and do for himself now.

Things were never easy, even when Harry was around, but they were never this hard either. Now that he knows what he’s missing, how much more capable he feels with someone there to really understand, he can’t help but still be mad at him for ruining everything. He misses him every minute of every day and it’s grueling and exhausting and he feels so pathetic for still wanting him so badly, even after he lied and betrayed and proved he was scum. He’s not sure if he’s angrier at Harry or at himself at this point. Probably himself. Harry seems kind of like a dream now, after going so long without him; sometimes he’ll remember moments of shared laughter or quiet intimacy and wonder if it all really happened. Sometimes he gets the urge to call him just to hear his voice again, because it’s led him through hell so many times he feels like he needs its beacon to get him through the nights. Sometimes he thinks of randomly showing up at his doorstep, sobbing about how much he still misses him, begging him to come back and make everything bearable again. Sometimes he thinks of suicide.

“Harry came in for a new tat today.” Liam blurts one night when they’re all gathered for a hang out in the living room.

Somehow Ashton ended up taking Harry’s place as the fifth wheel in their tight-knit little group and he sits comfortably next to Louis now, going quiet at the mention of the familiar name. All the time they’ve been spending together lately has been completely platonic, Louis has made sure of it. He felt bad when he tried to come onto him that one time after the breakup, but of course Ashton forgave him for being a giant dick and still wanted him around, so they’ve become closer than ever and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He realizes now that he doesn’t really want Ashton anyways; he’s always just tried to substitute him for Harry and that’s not fair to him at all. They can never be more than just friends, and he’s glad that at least Ashton seems okay with that. Sometimes he sneaks in little phrases that remind Louis of how he really feels about him, but he never tries to make it into anything more than just an unfortunate, unrequited interest. Being friends with him is still as easy as it ever was.

“Liam, we talked about this. It’s not betrayal, it’s business.” Zayn snaps.

“Sorry, but I still think he deserves to know. I’d wanna know.”

“I didn’t want to know.” Louis comments, taking a swig of his beer. He catches Zayn tilt his head and momentarily raise his brows at Liam as if to say _see, I fucking told you so_ and feels a small sense of pride that Zayn knows him so well.

“He asked about you.” Liam says anyways.

“I hope you told him I’m doing fucking wonderful without him.” Louis retorts. “That my newfound singing career has just taken off and I’m touring the world with 5 Seconds of Summer and it’s going great and I’m incredibly happy.” He takes another much needed swig of his drink and belatedly tacks on, “And also that I’m fucking a new guy in a different city every night. And they’re all hotter than him. And bigger. And better in bed.”

“Well, ‘s good to see you’re completely over it then.” Niall jokes.

“Not exactly.” Liam ignores him. “I told him you’re good though, and he wanted to know if you still have your tattoo.” He doesn’t have to clarify which one, it seares a hole through Louis’ hip at the mention. Sometimes he stares at it in the shower and wishes he could claw it off his skin. Sometimes he actually tries to claw it off his skin.

“Then I hope you told him no, I ripped it off my skin and threw it to a pack of rabid dogs as soon as I kicked him out.”

“That’s a bit extreme. I don’t think he would believe it.”

“The message is clear.” Louis maintains.

“You know, Lou, I’m really sorry I have to say this, but I think you’re being a bit of a hypocrite about this whole thing.” Ashton speaks up for the first time since Harry was mentioned and four pairs of eyes widen and turn to look at him in disbelief.

“How am I being a _hypocrite_?”

“Don’t you even remember how you guys got together in the first place?” Ashton asks, rhetorically. “You fucked him at my party, in my house, while you were still seeing me.” He reminds him, and Louis inwardly cringes at the memory. “I mean, yeah, I know we weren’t officially boyfriends or anything, but it was still a fucked up thing to do, and it really hurt.”

Louis is soft and quiet in his answer. “You know how sorry I am that things happened that way.”

“I know, and I’m not bringing it up again to make you feel bad or anything. I really am over it, and I’m glad we’re friends now.” Ashton nods sincerely. “I’m just reminding you that it happened, and for someone who’s made the same conscious decision as he did, you’re being really hard on him about it.”

“Are you seriously sticking up for him right now?” Louis’ jaw falls slack.

“No, I’m just, I mean.” Ashton breathes a long sigh and brushes his fringe out of his face like he’s considering what he’s about to say. “I don’t know. I think you’re not really being fair. I think you kind of just threw away _something_ over nothing.”

“Nothing?” Louis raises his voice, hurt by the dismissal of his legitimate feelings. “You think him going behind my back to let someone else suck him off is nothing?”

“I mean, okay, yeah. It’s something. He fucked up. That was fucked up.” Ashton shrugs. “But I forgave you for what you did to me because I value our friendship, and I think forgiveness and the people you love are more important than holding on to toxic shit like hurt and anger. And I don’t regret it at all because I got to keep you in my life. And I’m not saying you should follow my example or trying to sound like an authority on these kind of things, but I just think maybe you should consider it a bit. Forgiveness, I mean. You don’t have to take him back or anything, but don’t you think you’d at least feel better about the whole situation if you tried to let go of some of those hateful feelings?”

“You’re being awfully defensive for someone who doesn’t even like him.” Louis snaps. “Did you fuck him when I wasn’t looking, too?”

Ashton’s face falls with hurt and hardens with anger in the next instant and Louis realizes he took it too far. Ashton has been nothing but good to him since the first day they met and all he ever does is upset him in return and he hates himself for somehow always managing to do that to people.

“You know what? Fuck you, Louis.” Ashton spits, again surprising everyone as he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way to the front door. Louis’ heard the phrase from him plenty of times in a joking sense, but never filled with real hostility before and it carves a hole through his chest as he watches Ashton’s back walk away.

“Excuse the hell out of me for trying to help.” He rants his way out. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t even know what I see in you. You’re bitchy and rude and all you care about is yourself. You’re just a mean person, and I’m so sick of dealing with your fucking attitude. Fuck you.”

The words hang in the air even after the door slams behind him. No one says anything at first, but Louis can feel their stares and he knows they’re all holding back. Sometimes he swears his own friends are afraid of him. Whether it’s fear of upsetting him or fear of the way they’ll be treated for speaking their minds, the fear is there nonetheless.

“That was shitty. I know.” He admits, sighing, giving them the freedom to be honest.

“You’re not mean, Lou, but you can be a massive dick sometimes.” Zayn is the first to agree.

“No, I think he’s right.” He argues. Ashton doesn’t know about his illness and he has no plans to ever tell him. He likes being seen by some people as just a normal guy with a lot of fucked up issues, rather than a _depressed_ guy with lots of fucked up issues. It means people don’t treat him any differently or excuse his behavior because of it, and Ashton’s rage was probably an accurate account of what countless others think of him, too. “I am mean. And selfish. I treat people like shit and expect them to still be there for me. I don’t even know why you guys are still here.”

“’Cause we know you’re not really a bad guy.” Niall reassures, taking a swig of his drink. “S’ like dealing with a hormonal teenage girl sometimes. You lash out, but we know you don’t mean it. It’s just your time of the month.”

“Great, so I’m not a selfish asshole, just a teenage girl, permanently on the rag.” Louis gripes.

“It is what it is.” Niall shrugs, and even Louis can’t help but crack a tiny smile. He’s used to Ashton’s reaction; people eventually reaching their limit and giving all his shit right back to him, storming out and leaving. He’ll probably never get used to being so easily accepted and accommodated by his truest friends.

“Do you guys think Ashton’s right, then?” Louis wonders next. “You think I should forgive him?”

“I think Harry’s a good guy.” Liam offers, not so subtly neutral.

“He loved you.” Zayn follows in agreement. “Loves. Whatever. He definitely cared and I don’t think he did it on purpose.”

“How do you accidentally shove your cock down someone’s throat?” Louis counters. “’Whoops, I tripped and landed naked in your mouth’?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who’s been there before.” Zayn shrugs. “You just get caught up in the moment I guess, and I’m pretty sure we all know how difficult it is to concentrate on important things when your dick’s hard. I’m surprised he even had the willpower to stop at just a blowjob.”

“Zayn, what the fuck?” Niall jumps in. “Lou, don’t listen to them. I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into everyone, but he _cheated on you_. Yeah, it was just once and it was only a bj, but since when did that become okay? We’re men; not giant, talking cocks. We do have brains and if you can’t use it to control yourself then you’re shit. Simple as that.”

“Thank you, Niall!” Louis almost wants to grab his face and kiss his nose. It’s felt like everyone’s been ganging up on him since Ashton even brought it up; at least someone still has his back.

“So what’s your excuse for not controlling yours, then?” Zayn argues, giving Louis a pointed look.

“That was so different. Ashton and I weren’t like, I mean we hadn’t really gotten to know each other yet, or even come anywhere close to saying it was love, and we never made plans for the future, or spent time with each other’s families or anything serious, and like. When I was with him, it was _Harry_ , throwing himself at me. I liked him way longer and it meant something.” Louis defends. “It didn’t mean anything when he fucked around on me. He wasn’t choosing Michael over me, he just wanted his dick sucked and for some reason chose to block out the fact that he had a boyfriend to do it for him. I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“I’m on both of your sides.” Zayn admits, adamant. “I think you’re both good people who made a good couple and I just want you both to be happy again.”

“You want us to be happy with each other. You want me to forgive him.” Louis accuses.

“We want _you_ to be happy more than anything, Lou. We always have. You know that.” Liam offers, invoking those stupid soft and influential puppy eyes of his. “We saw how you were before you met him and how you changed with him. He didn’t cure you or anything, but it was different. You acted different. You smiled more. You didn’t have to try as hard to seem okay. He was good for you.”

He’s reluctant to listen, wants to shut them out and cover his ears and go lalalala so he doesn’t have to hear the truth of what they’re saying. He already knows Harry was good for him, he’s been trying to smother the thought since the day he left because he can’t let himself rely on someone that much ever again. The fact that his friends seem to want Harry back just as much as he does makes him uneasy. He doesn’t think he’ll last much longer.

“Look, I’m not saying you should forgive him. In the end, that really comes down to whether or not you think you can overlook it enough to move on from it and grow and better your relationship and blah blah, other mushy therapy stuff.” Zayn waves it off. “But Harry’s been coming into the shop for years. Ed knew him well. I talked to him enough. I saw how he was before you, and it wasn’t great. I mean, he was a cool guy but he fucked around with a lot of people and I fucking warned him about doing it to you, too. He seemed sincere. I know that’s kind of shot to hell now, but I’m just saying. I think he really tried and yeah he slipped up once, but compared to what could have been, trust me, you got off easy. I think if he didn’t really care about you we all would have seen it, but none of us did.”

“So just because he cares, that excuses him from doing one of the worst things you could possibly do to someone in a relationship?” Niall scoffs, clearly disgusted. “You two have been together too long. You don’t know what it’s like to be cheated on. It fucking sucks and you never really learn to trust people again afterwards. Emma’s a great girl, but I thought Lila was too until she fucked someone else. Now with every new girl, no matter how nice they are, I can’t help but wonder.”

“I’m done talking about this. Niall, would you pass me the clicker? There’s gotta be something better on the telly than this garbage.” Louis barks, ready to change the subject because that’s something he’s thought about too. If he ever did decide to get Harry back, it’s not like things would just immideately be all sunshine and rainbows between them. Lies were told. Trust was shattered. He doesn’t even know how to go about putting the pieces back together. He doesn’t want to even think about it because that’s dangerously close to thinking about forgiveness.

\--

He’s at a party somewhere with Niall later that week. It’s a Thursday night, he thinks. He also only _thinks_ his name is Louis. There’s a red, plastic cup a little less than half full of pure vodka in his hand because he couldn’t find a proper shot glass. The room is kind of blurred and unsteady, but it’s nice. The smell of pot is thick in the air and it reminds him too much of Harry, so he takes a hard gulp of the poison. He hasn’t seen Niall anywhere in at least an hour.

He meets a guy, George or something, and makes out with him on the couch in a basement room full of other people making out and it feels like he’s in some hip, grunge, 90’s movie that everyone would be quoting 10 years from now if there were any lines besides the sound of sour lips smacking against each other and clumsy, labored breaths and soft, tiny moans. He doesn’t usually like to hook up with random people, but every now and then someone cute comes along and he takes them to bed in the hopes they’ll be able to make his skin forget the way Harry made it feel alive.

Tonight he excuses himself before shirts can even come off, half-mumbling some lame story about how he has to go find Niall because really, he’s not drunk enough yet to erase the memory of Harry playfully nibbling marks into his neck and on his tattoos and right over the crown where George or something’s thumb happened to brush across and remind him of. He really wishes removal weren’t so painful and expensive. He wishes Zayn were there to do a cover-up right now, of literally anything but the stupid princess reference. He wishes he never made the stupid decision to go along with stupid Harry’s stupid matching tattoo idea in the first place. He pukes into a pretty looking china vase in a corner somewhere.

He forgets what he’s looking for eventually. Maybe a bathroom where he can curl up around the toilet because the cool porcelain would feel good on his face. He wanders down hallway mazes and opens lots of doors and finds lots of bare skin and angry people. He slurs out apologies and goes to open more doors. He stops in front of one that’s painted purple and has a broken picture frame left on it, just like the one from Friends. There are voices coming from behind it and one of them is deep and drawling and familiar so he strains to get a better listen. It takes him entirely too long to figure out that it definitely belongs to Harry, and his heart beats two times as rapidly when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s heard that voice and seen those curls and how badly he wants to again.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to listen through the walls when Harry is clearly in the room with someone else, doing things that’ll surely make him want to throw up his insides when he finds out, but he’s dangerously drunk and curious and it’s the closest he’s been to Harry since the day he came to pick up his things and he misses him.

“How many times am I gonna have to tell you I’m done before you fucking get it?” Harry sounds pissed. He hardly ever raises his voice, but it’s loud now. “This is getting really pathetic. I almost feel bad for you.”

“ _I’m_ pathetic? Look at you.” The other voice scoffs and Louis has never actually heard him speak before, but somehow he instantly knows who it is. “Boyfriend dumps you and you go right back to slutting around again, just like I knew you would. If you loved him so much, why wouldn’t you be trying to get him back instead? Could it be cause even he doesn’t want your fucking worthless arse anymore?”

“Shut up, Nick. You don’t know my life anymore and I’m so fucking sick of you acting like you do.” Harry retorts.

“Clearly hit a nerve with that, at least.” Nick laughs in creepy satisfaction. “You’re right though, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Getting it from no one’s gotta be better than catching something from you.”

“Then why are you still messing with me?” Harry challenges. “You don’t want me and I don’t want you, so why are we even still doing this? It’s so pointless.”

Nick’s voice gets low like he’s mumbling something and Louis hears the footsteps coming, but before his impaired brain can register what’s happening, the door swings open and Nick is standing there, towering above him, looking annoyed and slightly intimidating.

“Louis?” Harry gasps, and Louis sees him for the first time in what feels like a millennium. He’s sitting up in the middle of the huge bed in the room, surrounded by a sea of ruffled sheets that make Louis nauseous to see because what reason does he have to be in a messy bed at a party in the middle of the night? He’s fully clothed at least, and fully breathtaking, as usual. Wild curls springing out from his face in varied directions, peircing green widened in shock at the sight of him, cheeks flushed slightly pink from booze or anger or embarrassment. Whatever the reason, seeing him again, looking so real and picturesque in the worst of ways, is somehow like a breath of fresh air while simultaneously being locked in a stuffy closet.

He focuses back on the man in front of him again and an ugly, crooked smirk twists Nick’s lips upward.

“So you’re the infamous Louis I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you must be the infamous asshole who tried so hard to sabotage our relationship.” Louis quips.

“The one and only.” Nick glows. “Turns out you didn’t even need my help for that, though. He cheated, didn’t he?”

The words are a frozen hand smacking him across the face on a snowy winter morning outside.

“Leave him alone, Nick.” Harry cautions. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Typical Harry.” Nick nods, completely ignoring Harry’s plea. “Did he tell you he loved you first? Promise to be there forever? I bet he took good care of you. Made you feel like there’s no way he’d ever do that to you. Made you feel crazy for even suspecting. He’s good at mind games, that one. It’s that pretty face of his, huh? Deadly combination. You never see it coming.”

Louis’ stomach churns at the truth of it as a montage of their relationship plays in his head, of all the times Harry told him he loved him, promised to stick around for him, implied that he was safe with him.

“Fuck off, Nick, for real. Don’t say another word, just go.” Harry warns again.

“What’s the matter, am I upsetting someone?” He feigns dramatic innocence. “Louis, babe. I don’t even know you, but trust me when I say you’re better off without this worthless slut. I don’t know exactly what went on between you, but—” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Louis spits then, shocking himself as much as anyone else. It doesn’t matter what Harry’s done to him, he won’t tolerate this ugly intruder bullying him like that and he certainly isn’t going to let himself be dragged into it, too. “You’re damn right, you don’t know me. And you don’t know anything about us. He said he doesn’t want you. So why don’t you stop talking so much shit and just get lost?”

Nick just blinks a few times, stunned into silence for a moment, but he shakes it off in the next. “I am so done with all of this.” He grumbles as he shrugs past Louis and into the hall. “Have fun with your piece of trash boyfriend. You two deserve each other.”

His absence hangs awkwardly in the air when he’s finally gone. They stay like that for a minute, Louis standing in the doorway, eyes locked on a helpless looking Harry settled in the bed sheets and neither of them really knows what to do but Harry’s stare tells him they both know exactly what they  _want_  to do.

“What were you doing with him?” Louis blurts, dreading the answer, but still tragically hoping it won’t be what he expects.

“Nothing, I swear. I was just…” Harry immediately denies. “I had too much to drink. I threw up somewhere, I think. I needed to lie down. No one was using this room, but he found me here and just started yelling. I didn’t even know he was gonna be here tonight. I didn’t know you would be here either. My head hurts.” He blurts, and Louis doesn’t know if it’s just the booze making him want to believe the ridiculous story, but he knows drunk Harry and he can tell that part is definitely true.

“You don’t have to lie to me. We’re not together anymore.” He reminds him.

“I know. I’m not lying.” Harry maintains. “You really think I would go back to that after…” He trails off, letting Louis interpret for himself.

“He said you were ‘slutting around’ again.” Louis points out.

“And you believed him.” Harry concludes, not even attempting to deny it. He knows it won’t make a difference either way. His word barely means anything anymore. It means so little that Louis is willing to believe an almost perfect stranger over him.

His eyes are real though, he can’t hide the truth in them, and they’re screaming everything else Louis wants to know. That he’s not doing so well himself now that they don’t have each other anymore. That this isn’t the first time Nick has treated him this way. That he lets him get away with it because he’s Harry and he lets people get away with everything. He let Louis get away with so much of his own shit; pushing him away one minute, clinging to him the next, lashing out at him on bad days, barely paying him enough attention on the rest.

“You’re not worthless.” He tells him quietly, in response to the burning ache behind his eyes.

“I am a slut, though.” Harry admits.

“So what? You like to have sex. Who doesn’t?” Louis argues. “That has nothing to do with your value as a person. You’re not worthless.”

“Look at you, my little drunken liberal.” Harry chuckles weakly.

Louis stiffens at the ease between them, how Harry even felt comfortable enough to tease him like that and his own initial reaction to smile and kiss him quiet like he would’ve done only a few months ago.

“Not yours anymore.” He reminds him again, and Harry’s face visibly falls.

“I know. Just an expression.” He says, flatly. “Why do you care what he calls me anyways?”

“I just know how it feels, to think you’re nothing.” He says softly, and he hates that opening up to Harry in the past has made it so much easier to open up to him now, even when he doesn’t want to. Sometimes he just feels like he’s going to explode from how much he keeps in all the time around others, but with Harry and especially with Harry _and_ alcohol, it all just tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it and it never feels bad or wrong to speak whatever’s in his fucked up head. “You’re an ass and you deserve a lot of shit, but no one deserves to feel like nothing.”

“I do feel that way sometimes, but it’s not because of him.” Harry confesses, just as soft and meek and Louis can feel the fierce apology behind it, coated with regret from a broken promise and he’s not ready for this yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He ventures. Harry always said Nick was difficult, but he never mentioned that he was outright abusive. There’s a lurching feeling in the pit of his stomach at the idea that it probably got much worse than just a little cursing and yelling at some point, and he wants to reach out and hold Harry close and protect him from all the bad people and things in the world.

Harry hesitates, weighing his words in his mind. He avoids eye contact, instead fiddling with the splayed out sheets all around him when he answers, “I was supposed to be there for you. I just wanted to be strong, for you.”

“Not always, I—” Louis holds back too because this is ridiculous, they’re not even together anymore, they shouldn’t be reopening these wounds before they’ve barely even had a chance to scar, but Harry is so soft and fragile right now and his eyes are glistening and innocent and they’ve both had too much to drink and he misses him. “We were supposed to be there for each other.”

But that’s not how it was. Harry never needed him, or he never showed how much he did, anyways. Louis needed Harry a lot; needed him to listen, to care, to stay. Their relationship was too one-sided, too self-centered, always about Louis, never Harry, and it was all his own fault for not realizing sooner that he probably felt neglected a lot. For him to think that he always had to be strong for the both of them, to the point where he felt like he had to keep his own issues hidden for fear of burdening Louis with them, was way too much pressure and completely unfair and not how a relationship should be at all. Maybe if he would have paid some fucking attention to anyone but himself and his own needs for once in his goddamn life, they wouldn’t even be here right now.

“I’m still here for you.” Harry offers, and Louis bites his lip and tries to hold back from saying something he’ll regret but Harry’s right there and he’s so soft and he smells like flowers and whiskey and pot and it reminds him of spending nights at parties like this, safely curled up next to his side or laying in a tangle of sweaty limbs and open hearts in a stranger’s bedroom and he misses him.

“I miss you.” He blurts, mentally cursing himself before, after, and even as the words are being said. He feels weak and exposed and vulnerable, like someone’s shining a too-hot spotlight right over his head as the whole world looks on and judges him for still wanting the same stupid guy who he promised himself he didn’t need anymore.

Harry’s eyes brighten, but in a wistful and sad sort of way that crumbles him right to the core.

“I miss you so fucking much, Louis.” Harry says, and even in the muted lighting, Louis can somehow see the depth of his words, feel the way he means them and the way his heart is racing just as fast as his own right now.

Again, the silence falls over them, but it’s comfortable this time, like neither of them has anything to say because they’re both too busy trying not to scream to the heavens, _yes, god, yes, he misses me too!_

Eventually, Harry flips the covers back and pats the dip in the bed next to him. He holds out his arms, spreading them open and inviting Louis to take shelter in their embrace.

“Come here.” He says, a gentle plead that Louis couldn’t resist even if he wanted to and he’s not even sure he does anymore because there’s so many things clouding his brain, making him forget how angry he was. All he wants is to feel safe in Harry’s arms again.

He shuts the door behind him and hastily crawls his way from the bottom of the bed, up the length of the mattress to settle right against Harry’s chest and it feels like his heart’s been in an indefinite coma for fifty years and the touch of their skin together is enough to wake it.

“It’s so hard without you.” He admits, catching Harry’s scent like spring blooming in the woods. It takes him back to that very first day they met, when he was completely captivated by every move Harry made and his whole world lit up in perfect synchrony with that face-breaking grin. He thinks about the difference in how far they’ve come since then and maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s because he spends too much effort holding it in all the time or maybe it’s that he’s used to letting Harry see him cry, but whatever the reason, he can’t stop the few tears he feels running down his cheeks.

Harry uses his thumb to wipe them away, smears them onto his skin nearly as soon as they fall, one by one, leaving salty residue and electric currents behind in their place.

“I know, I know. It is for me, too.” He whispers, and Louis can feel how tight he’s holding him and he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky and his bones will break so he won’t have to carry this heavy heart around anymore.

They just lie in silence for a while, both of them too afraid to say anything that will ruin the moment, even though he’s sure the same question is incessantly buzzing around between Harry’s ears right now. They haven’t spoken in months and they miss each other so much that they’re cuddling like nothing ever happened to make them stop, and Harry’s carding his fingers through his hair and even though everything in Louis’ body says this is a bad idea it still feels so _right_ , like he’s coming home again after spending a summer abroad and what does that mean for them?

“I finally understand how it can be so hard for you to get out of bed sometimes.” Harry dares to break the silence. “Just yesterday I couldn’t even make myself move, no matter how much I knew I had to get up. I stayed there all morning.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it? It’s so frustrating.” He knows the feeling better than anyone. “You keep telling yourself to get the fuck up, stop being such a lazy sack, you’ve got important shit to do, but your bones are heavy and it’s just too much work.”

“You’re so brave.” Harry tells him and his heart stutters because no one’s ever called him that before and why does it have to be Harry who always sees him in a way that no one else does? “I don’t know how you do this all the time. I don’t know how I can do it much longer.”

“You’ll be okay.” He reassures, not worried in the slightest. He knows Harry’s not depressed, just sad. Sadness always goes away eventually. Depression never leaves, yet somehow always comes back. “You’re braver than me. Stronger than me. You’ll survive.”

“Will you?” Harry wonders.

“I don’t know. I’ve made it this far.” He never knows if he’ll be able to make it much farther.

“You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know.” Harry tells him, still pushing the hair back from his forehead, leaving light little touches on his face. “I still worry about you though. Please tell me you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Don’t have much of a choice now that you’re not around to do it for me.” He jokes, but Harry doesn’t find it very funny and he quickly realizes it isn’t. “I really don’t know how you even put up with me. I was awful to you. I’m so selfish. I never showed you how much I appreciated you. I just worried about me all the time. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it, you’re wonderful.” Harry refutes. “This isn’t your fault at all, please don’t blame yourself. I’m the asshole who ruined everything.”

“Yeah, you fucking are.” Louis agrees, remembering his anger again. “I’m not taking all the blame. There’s better ways you could have handled things, like just fucking talking to me about it, but I didn’t really make that easy on you either. We both fucked up.”

“Louis, I didn’t…” He hesitates, careful as always, not to say anything that will upset him. “I didn’t do it because of anything you were doing wrong. I did it because, I don’t know. I’m just fucked up. I’m literally the guy that parents warn their daughters about. It used to be fun for me. I liked the rush of knowing I could get caught. I liked fucking with people’s heads and having power over them. Sex was so much better when I knew it was wrong.”

“That’s sick, Harry. That’s really fucked up.” He doesn’t want to be mean or judgmental; this is one of the first times Harry’s really opened up to him and he’s always been so good about not making Louis feel bad about his own shit, but he can’t think of anything proper or comforting to say to that. It’s just fucked up.

“I know. I was a shitty person before I met you.” Harry easily admits. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t have a real excuse for it, it was just what I did. I liked it. So when he came onto me I didn’t think, I just did what I always do and then I realized too late that I don’t want to be that way with you. I love you. I don’t want to play games with you and I don’t want to hurt you and I’m so sorry I did. I hate myself for it.”

Every cell in his body aches to believe it, and every vessel in his heart warns him not to.

“So you never felt like I was ignoring you, or that you weren’t important to me?” He asks, and Harry delays again, weighing his options, but that right there gives it away before he actually says it.

“A little, sometimes.” He says, and Louis knows how Harry likes to downplay things for his benefit so he takes that as more of a _yes, you barely even noticed I was there_  and it’s a slap in the face and a punch in the gut all at once. “But you have to understand that what I did had nothing to do with anything you were doing wrong. It was entirely the result of me being a complete and utter shitbag who doesn’t deserve your time or attention anyways.”

“You were so good to me though.” Louis finds himself rationalizing, and how the hell did the tables turn so much that he became the one defending Harry instead of canonizing him? “You’re not a shitbag. You can be. You have your moments. That was definitely one of them.”

“I’m so sorry—” He starts again, but Louis puts a finger to his lips to shut him up.

“I have my moments, too. We’re human, we all make mistakes.” He rambles, and the revelation hits him like a loaded shotgun, aimed and fired right at his head. He expected way too much from him. Harry is just a person, not a magical fucking flower angel descended from the heavens to reconstruct Louis’ life for him. Just a person. He tried his best to make Louis happy even though it’s a near impossible job, but he wanted to help anyways because he cared. He’s always cared.

“Lou, are you saying…” Harry trails off, taking his time. Louis can feel how he’s sweating on the inside like he isn’t sure he should even ask what Louis already knows he’s going to.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He finally blurts in a rush, like ripping off a band-aid.

“No. I’m still mad at you. I’m still hurt.” He really doesn’t know what he feels or what’s going to happen between them anymore. There’s too much happening inside him and all he wants to do is exactly what he’s already doing; crawl into bed and hide under the covers and avoid the rest of the world. Only it’s better here, at this random party in some random person’s bed, because Harry’s with him for real and being held by him isn’t just a far-off memory anymore.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, or if I’ll ever really trust you again.” He says, and Harry nods in clear understanding. He knows what he did wrong. He knows how bad it was. He’s obviously willing to accept whatever comes to him, whatever Louis decides to do, and that’s another thing Louis loves about him. He always gives him the freedom to do exactly what he wants and be exactly who he is. Even if it destroys them both in the process. “Not saying we’ll end up married with kids in twenty years, but if we did, I’d still be wondering if someday you’ll confess something like that again. There’s always gonna be doubt in my mind.”

“I know, I know, you trusted me and I ruined it.” Harry sighs, burying his face in the hair atop Louis’ head, rubbing his back in comfort. “I could say nothing but ‘I’m sorry’ for all twenty of those hypothetical years and it still wouldn’t even come close to showing how much I regret hurting you.”

If his head were a fire department it would be too loud to concentrate on anything but the warning sirens going off when he considers kissing him. He only deliberates for a microsecond before he gives in and presses their lips together, desperate to taste him again.

He does because he misses him. He misses him so much some days it feels like someone’s tied all his limbs together and hurled his body into the ocean and he’s sinking, deeper and deeper and everything’s getting darker and colder and crushing him underneath the pressure of a hundred thousand fathoms.

He misses the way his lips feel, tender and needy against his own. The way his curls twist all through and around Louis’ fingers when he grabs his hair, the way his breath hitches and speeds when he kisses his way down his chest, his abs, to his waist. He misses his little encouraging pants and moans, the way his back curves and arches when Louis’ slicked fingers fit inside and work him open, how easily he comes apart, turning into a breathless mess of unintelligible words as he forces himself down further, tries to take more in. He misses the slap of skin against skin, the way Harry is so much bigger than him but feels so small and snug around him as his body rocks beneath him and he cries out, spilling all over his chest to stick their bodies together when Louis collapses on top of him.

He especially misses the way Harry is always ready for round two, how hungry and greedy he can be sometimes, the way he can turn the tables so easily and have Louis writhing underneath him in the next moment, licking him open until he’s begging for more, craving the stretch of his cock and the way he holds him down as he relentlessly fucks into him, expertly hitting all his favorite spots because he _knows_ what gets him off, and the praise he always gets for being so beautiful and having such a pretty arse. Harry has a lot of praise for him now, like he’s been stockpiling the “you’re so fucking gorgeous”es and the “god, I can’t believe you’re even real”s just so he could use them all up in one night and it only makes him desperate for more because even though he understands now that Harry is only human, not some wild other worldly being with crazy healing powers, he’s still the same beautiful and magnificent creature that’s had him under his spell since day one and to know that he thinks the same of him is an absolutely mind-blowing concept he will simply never fully grasp.

It’s only when he instinctively cuddles against Harry’s chest when they’re finished, that he realizes the weight of what just happened. He knew while they were going at it that it was a mistake. Part of what made it so enjoyable was the notion in the back of his head that this is wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, he’ll regret it when it’s over. As much as he wishes it didn’t have to end, as much as he wants to just stay here with Harry, fucking and cuddling until the sun comes up like they used to, this is the guy who he trusted with his whole heart and the same guy who smashed it to bits when he was supposed to be the one protecting it.

“You called me Haz again.” Harry smiles in that dopey, blissful, fucked-out way he always does afterwards.

“I’m sorry.” Louis apologizes, hurrying to sit up and fling the covers off his bare body. He feels too hot and too aware and too fucking stupid and he has to get away. “I shouldn’t be here right now. I have to go.”

“Don’t,” Harry whines, immediately catching on to exactly what he means. “Don’t do this, it’s not fair. You can’t just leave now.”

“I’m sorry, but that shouldn’t have happened.” Louis yanks his clothes from the floor and pulls his pants back on, his jeans, his shirt. “We’re still broken up. This is wrong. I shouldn’t have stayed here with you in the first place. I should have left as soon as I saw you. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re so fucking moody sometimes, fuck.” Harry sits up too, watches him dress with furrowed brows and pleading eyes that Louis can’t even bear to look directly into. “You didn’t think it was wrong when I was making you cum just a few minutes ago.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis snaps, anger rising again. “How do you even have the nerve to criticize me after what you’ve done? Fuck, I’m so stupid. You’re such an ass. I’m out of here.”

“So you’re really gonna make love to me and then just run away?” Harry challenges in stunned disbelief. “You’re really gonna try to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“’Make love’? What are we, a couple of teenage girls losing it for the first time?” Louis scoffs, “It was just sex, Harry, get over it. I thought you were good at random hookups.”

“That wasn’t just sex. It’s never _just sex_ for us and you know it.” Harry retorts and Louis feels his stomach twist because he knows he’s fucking right. “You’re more than just another hookup to me.”

“Fuck you, Harry!” Louis spits, hating that the entire night ever happened, wishing he could press rewind and stop his past self from ever walking by the door to this room. The anger is so clear in his vision now that he can’t even see how it got lost in the first place. “What else do you want from me, anyways? You already took everything! I’m—I can’t give you another chance just because you want it. You broke my fucking heart, you stupid fucking—ugh! I hate you. I _hate_ you. I hate you so much.”

How is it even possible that he still feels guilty when he meets Harry’s eyes and watches them go dull? That he feels a twinge of regret and wants to somehow suck the words back into his mouth and stop them from visibly gutting the beautiful creature in front of him right now? Of course he doesn’t hate him. He could never hate him. He only hates himself for always being such a stupid, unruly mess that it so deeply affects anyone he ever gets close to.

He knows it was wrong to lead Harry on like that, even though Harry’s done much worse to him; two wrongs don’t make a right, and Harry isn’t a bad person, just bad for him. He shouldn’t have crawled into bed with him. He shouldn’t have let Harry think it meant anything. He shouldn’t have let himself be so weak. He wishes nobody cared about him so he could stop trying to be okay and just kill himself already. Everyone would be better off without him complicating their lives. He would be better off not able to complicate his own life.

“Please, Louis. Please don’t go.” Harry pleads, one last time, as Louis reaches for the door. “Please come back to bed.”

He doesn’t go back to bed. He forces his eyes away from Harry and his heart away from everything they once had together. He doesn’t think, just leaves. He leaves Harry alone in the big room with the big bed and he leaves Niall alone somewhere in the big house at the big party and he goes outside into the big, dark world, quiet in the dead of night except for the faint music he can hear still coming from inside.

He doesn’t think. He just gets in the car, needing to be as far away from Harry as he can. He doesn’t care that he’s nowhere near sober enough to drive. He doesn’t think when he sticks his key in the ignition, when the engine starts up, when he peels off down the street without even attempting to glance at the speed limit signs. He’s not going terribly fast and there are no other cars around, nothing but empty roads and silent houses for miles.

He doesn’t think when his phone buzzes in his pocket, doesn’t think when he reaches to answer it, or when he sees it’s only a text and dares to read it. He does think _who the hell is texting me at nearly 3 am?_ and he does think about what a useless waste of space he is again, when he reads it to find an apology from Ashton.

_Sorry about the other day. You know I didn’t mean it. You’re my favorite person._

So maybe he isn’t thinking and doesn’t actually mean to do it, but when he happens to look up from the screen at the exact moment before impact and sees nothing but the trunk of an enormous oak tree coming full speed at his windshield, all he feels is relief. The sound of the car’s hood curling viciously around the bark, the airbag crashing forward into his face, the glass shattering and popping on the pavement around him, the steam rising from the gruesome mess of wrecked metal; it’s all like a carefully constructed hallelujah chorus singing just for him. He recalls his last coherent thought being  _thank god, it’s finally over_ , and then the mind-numbing pain shoots through every little inch of his entire body and seconds later, he blacks out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorrrryyy, it had to be done .__.
> 
> comments? predictions, maybe?? pretty please and pretty thank you <3


	20. When you're too in love to let it go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter is like 12k, so prepare yourselves. it starts from harry's POV and then switches to lou's. i did do quite a bit of research on louis' injuries, but i apologize ahead of time if i happened to get some things wrong here and there.
> 
> anyways, this is the absolute end of it all. i just want to say a massive thank you to every single one of you who's made it this far. i've been writing for a long time, but i've never actually finished a story before and i honestly couldn't have done it without all of your wonderful feedback and encouragement. it means so much to me that you enjoy this story enough to read 20 chapters of all this stupid fluff and pining and angst and rambling. i honestly can't thank you guys enough for being here<3
> 
> i'm really happy with the way this turned out, so i hope you like it as much as i do. enjoy xx

If he hadn’t decided to leave shortly after Louis did, he may not have even known about the accident. After all, Louis hates him now, a fact that keeps playing on repeat in his head— _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you so much_ —grating, like the hard scrape of nails down a classroom black board, so it’s not like Louis’d demand anyone to call and keep him informed.

Thankfully, miserably, as an appropriately sober Ed drives him home, they pass a cleanup crew on the way and Harry watches people attach a nastily distorted vehicle to the back of a tow truck. He recognizes it and at first he thinks _no way, that’s not him, I just saw him an hour ago, he’s fine, there’s plenty of small silver cars on the road, that could be anyone,_ but the dreadful twist in his stomach refuses to be placated and his entire world starts to move in slow motion.

He ends up in a waiting room in the early hours of the morning. It’s too white and there’s bright lights everywhere. His head hurts. He’s not sure if he’s hung over or still a little drunk. He feels like throwing up and then cleaning the mess, just to drink himself sick again so he can throw up more.

Louis’ mum is there too, of course. Someone called her. She had a lot of tears at first, but she seems to have dried up now and she just sits in a trance-like stare, aimed down the ICU hallway. It’s been hours since they both arrived at nearly the same exact time, and they haven’t heard much.

Louis is alive, for now. Doctors said it looked pretty bad, but nothing he can’t recover from. A broken arm, a couple cracked ribs, a minor neck injury. They took him into _surgery_ for a broken femur, but they assured Harry and Jay that everything would be fine. That was hours ago, it feels like, but what would he know? A minute feels like days here, with the idea that he may never get to see Louis’ smiling face again weighing him down. Even though the doctors said he’s going to be okay, of course Harry can’t help worrying about if something goes wrong. He won’t believe Louis is really okay until he can see him with his own two eyes.

He feels incredibly guilty. Jay is obviously, purposely avoiding eye contact, but she was giving him looks through her tears earlier, that told him she definitely knows what he did and probably blames him too. It’s true that this time, Louis ran out on him all his own, and god did it fucking hurt to watch him walk away again, but it’s not like Harry didn’t deserve it. If he hadn’t ruined everything in the first place, things wouldn’t have even gotten to this point. He should have been the one protecting Louis from all this hurt and confusion, or at least comforting him through it like he used to, but instead he was the one causing it. If Louis didn’t make it through, he’d never forgive himself for starting this entire mess.

Eventually, a nurse comes to talk to them. The sun is already out. They waited all night for this. She re-informs them about Louis’ injuries and assures them it’s not that bad, surgery went fine, and he’s going to make a full recovery. Harry lets out the breath that’s been weighing him down all night.

She goes on to explain that he’s still a little out of it from the anesthesia they used to put him under, but he is awake now and they can go see him. She recommends one at a time so they don’t overwhelm him, and Jay immediately marches her way right down the hall like she owns the place. He doesn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have tried to be the first to see Louis anyways, even though he’s itching in his skin to witness in person that he’s okay. The important part is that he _is_ okay, and it occurs to Harry for the first time that Louis may not even want to see him.

He decides he doesn’t really care about that. He’s been waiting for too long, wondering if Louis was even going to be alive by the end of it; he’s earned the right to see him, at least. He’ll put up with whatever anger Louis has for him when the time comes. He’ll even leave if Louis wants him to, he just has to know he’s alright.

It’s another torturous hour of anxious anticipation before Jay finally comes back into the waiting room.

“He wants to see you.” She glares, and he hops up so fast he nearly breaks his own leg before he even gets to Louis’ room.

“How does he know I’m here?” He wonders out loud.

“I don’t know. He asked if you were, I asked why he even cares, and then he told me to send you in.”

Harry gulps at her clear hostility towards him, mumbles out a “thank you” underneath his breath, and makes his way down the hall to Louis’ room, feeling like a mess of hasty scribbles and tangled strings inside.

\--

The doctor’s description leaves something to be imagined. It hadn’t sounded that bad, but it _looks_ that bad.

The first thing he notices is that Louis is in a neck brace, a fact that shocks him with gruesome images of wide-eyed, mouth-open, dead people with broken necks in horror movies. It’s probably just whiplash or something, but it’s jolting to see him so constrained. He doesn’t know much about medical injuries, but neither of Louis’ legs is in a cast. The one they operated on is elevated on a stack of pillows and wrapped in gauze around the thigh, where he assumes the incision is. His broken arm is in a cast, also comfortably elevated, since a sling can’t hang around his weak neck yet. Even his healthy limbs are bruised and covered with little glass cuts and band-aids on the nastier ones, and his left eye is swollen shut and tinted purple. He’s attached to an IV and a heart rate monitor, and if it weren’t for the creepy metronome counting the beats in his chest, Harry would swear he couldn’t even breathe right now. It looks like it might be difficult, at least.

“Hi, Haz.” Louis gives a weak smile when Harry approaches his bedside, and he feels a dash of confusion with a simultaneous heart flutter at the familiar nickname. Louis doesn’t sound angry or upset at all. Even though his voice is a little scratchy and wrecked, something about the tone of it is cheerful. The doctor did say he was still working through the laughing gas, though.

“Hi, Lou.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly back, relieved to see his again. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. I’m thinking of running a marathon this afternoon.” He says, making Harry chuckle.

“Just don’t be too disappointed if you don’t take first place. Some of those runners have been training longer than you.” He teases.

“Harry Styles, are you saying you doubt my abilities?” Louis feigns offense.

“I’m saying you’re probably gonna need a wheelchair to even get to the race, much less win it.”

“Ugh, a wheelchair,” Louis groans. “You’re right. I’m gonna have to be pushed around like an old man who just threw his hip out.”

“I don’t think people will mistake you for an old man, at least.” He refutes. “You’re too pretty for that.”

“You can’t seriously still think I’m pretty like this.” Louis can’t twist his neck to look at him, and even if he could, he’d only be able to see him through one eye.

“You could win Mr. Universe based solely on looks alone.”

“Not if you were there to charm the pants off the judges.” Louis dismisses. It’s weird that he’s being so friendly, that they’re bantering so casually, when their last interaction was so messy and painful. He wonders if the doctors forgot to mention that Louis also has some kind of slight brain damage.

“Louis, do you even remember who I am?” He dares to ask, and Louis chuckles a little, then squints his face up like that hurt.

“Ow,” He groans, “Yeah, dumbass. Of course I remember you. This isn’t Fifty First Dates.”

“True. And even if it was, you met me before your accident, so I’m afraid you’d still be stuck knowing me now.” Harry points out.

“Whatever. I haven’t got any memory loss, I don’t think. I remember last night pretty clearly, anyways. It was last night, right?” He checks.

“Technically earlier today. It’s only half-ten right now.” Harry confirms. He wants to reach out and caress Louis’ cheek, but he’s afraid of hurting him. He looks so broken and fragile and it rips his own heart open to see him this way, but at least he’s still alive.

“Dammit. No matter what I do, a few hours of unconsciousness is all I can ever manage to get.” Louis groans, closing his one good eye like he’s imagining he’s somewhere else.

Harry’s breath hitches at that and he remembers the night they got their matching tattoos, when Louis opened up to him about his one attempt at suicide, and how in the midst of his rambles he confessed that if he were to ever try again, it’d be by crashing his car. His chest tightens and he holds his breath when he asks, “Did you do it on purpose, then? Was this…”

“No. It was a real accident.” Louis assures him, all lightness gone from his tone. He knows how grave Louis gets when he talks about these things, so he must really mean it. “I was just hoping I wouldn’t make it.”

“Well, that makes one of us.” He finally dares to reach out and brush his fingers across Louis’ cheekbone, finds that the skin there is just as smooth and soft and pristine as it ever was. “I’m so fucking relieved to see you’re okay.”

The steady beeping on the machine next to his bed speeds up ever so slightly.

“Why are you still here?” Louis wonders, chipping away at the edges of the already ragged hole in his chest that their separation left him with. He feels like if it gets any bigger, his body will collapse in on itself and he’ll be reduced to nothing but a crumbled mess underneath Louis’ shoes.

“Do you want me to leave?” He offers quietly. “I’m sorry. If you’re upset, I’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.” Louis lifts the weight off his heart. “I just mean, why do you still care enough to be here right now? Every time I freak out on you, you just keep coming back, and I don’t understand it.”

“Stop trying to understand it.” He urges. “I love you, that’s all it is. You’ll probably never really see why. I still don’t even see why you ever fell for me.” He’s practically begging to hear him say it again. He knows there’s still something there, otherwise they wouldn’t still be doing this to each other, but the last thing Louis said to him before the accident was _I hate you_ , so that’s not really reassuring. He hasn’t heard the opposite from him in so long it’s like his body actually craves it. Every skin cell feels alive with anticipation for it.

“You hurt me. I’m supposed to still be mad at you.” Louis rambles. “But I’m not anymore.”

“You’re not?” If he was attached to a heart rate monitor too, it would be beeping off the charts.

“No. It’s too exhausting. I don’t hate you. I miss you.” He resigns, but Harry’s cautious, wary to fully believe him because he has so many mood swings even when he’s not on anything.

“I think that might be the anesthesia talking.” He attributes. “We’ll see if you still feel the same when you get out of here. Which is when, exactly? Did they tell you yet?”

“The doctor says I’m gonna be here a week, at least.” Louis tells him. “They said they’ll have to see how much progress I make before they decide what to do with me after that. I start physical therapy tomorrow, and they said for most femur fractures, patients get transferred to a rehab center for a couple weeks after the first initial week of therapy, for like, more intense physical training or something. I don’t know. I just hope I don’t have to go through it, too.”

“They’re gonna make you try to walk _tomorrow_? Are you kidding? You just got out of surgery!” He doesn’t look like he can even move right now, much less get up and walk. And can it really be healthy to walk on a broken bone anyways?

Louis gives a weak, tiny shrug. “They said it’s best to start trying to get movement back as soon as possible. Otherwise, there could be complications like blood clots and things and I could die. Maybe I’ll just refuse to get up and hope something bad happens.”

“Louis, stop saying things like that.” Harry scolds. “You’re alive. You survived an awful wreck. You should have seen your car. I drove by it on the way home and it was just this gross, ugly, piece of metal. I thought my heart was literally going to jump out of my chest, I panicked so much. I was sure you were dead. You’re lucky you’re not.”

“I know. I should be grateful, but I’m not.” Louis does his tiny, broken shrug again. “Story of my life.”

“I’m sorry. I know that you’re not joking when you say those things. It’s just... I’m so glad you’re okay, and you’re not, and that’s frustrating. I want you to be glad you made it.”

“The accident didn’t change anything. I’m still the same me.”

“That’s not true, pre-accident Louis hated me.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little more merciful, but that has nothing to do with the fact that I’d rather not have to be here to forgive anyone in the first place.”

Harry sighs, because he’s right. He is still the Louis who hated his life and wished he were dead on a daily basis, and Harry is still the Harry who feels so helpless that he can’t do anything to make it better.

“Do you mind if I come see you again tomorrow?”

“Please do. I’m gonna be stuck in this stupid place by myself all day. I’ll need someone to talk to.”

“You’ll have other visitors too, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” Louis sighs, then winces like the breath was too deep and it hurt. Harry wants to rip his own hair out at the roots, seeing him like this, all weak and mangled. He literally can’t even _breathe_ too much without it hurting. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Can you believe it’s only been a few months? Feels like ages.” Harry agrees.

“Tell me what I missed. What’s new? How is everything?” Louis wants to know, so Harry pulls a chair from the wall and sets it near his bed. He sits and tells him all about what he’s been up to while they’ve been apart. Which isn’t much, really. He’s started seeing Ed more again, but he’s still really focused on his music so it’s not like they hang out all the time. He has other friends too, though, so he’s mostly just been occupying his time with them. He’s tried to get back into some of his old hobbies, things he used to do before he got too wrapped up in Louis to remember who he was.

He still does his yoga every day, and now that the weather’s warming up again he’s started a little garden in his backyard. He’s mostly growing fresh vegetables, carrots and celery and plants that come from the ground, but there are flowers too, of course. He can never get enough of those. Louis pokes fun at him for being such a hippie soul, growing his own organic food and everything, but then he asks if he can see it sometime, his little garden getaway. Harry pulls out his phone to show him pictures, (because let’s be real, he’s proud of all the hard work he’s put into it) and Louis says it’s hard to see much with his bum eye but it looks wonderful, so Harry promises to show him in person once he gets better.

They talk and laugh and banter like old college roommates catching up after years of not seeing each other. He’s not sure if it’s just Louis’ medicine that’s got him in such a seemingly good mood, but he won’t dare question it. For now, his Louis is here, the happy one that he used to only dream about having, back when they were just friends and everything was so much easier. He’s not sure what this means for them going forward, but he’s going to enjoy it for as long as he’s allowed.

\--

He visits the hospital first thing after work the next day. Louis has definitely worked the laughing gas out of his system by now, and when Harry asks the doctor about his condition, she tells him everything looks good, that Louis almost walked across his room today, and they gave him some painkillers for his ribs.

He’s a little better than yesterday; the swelling on his eye has gone down slightly and his skin isn’t so sickly pale anymore. He’s still got the heart rate monitor, but the IV is gone. And he still looks like hell, regardless. A hell that Harry would gladly stand in the middle of and let himself be burned to ashes just to be around.

“Haz, thank god.” Louis sounds relieved to see him this time. “Would you do me a favor and change the channel on the telly? I don’t want to bother my nurse for it. I’ve been such a pain in the ass today.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he goes to change the droning news station, glad to see that Louis still seems in good spirits despite everything.

“How’s that?” He wonders, moving a chair to the edge of the bed.

“I hate it here. It’s boring. The food is awful. I’ve got people checking in on me all the time, like I’m some kind of prisoner. Everything hurts.” He explains. “I’ve been bitching to my nurse. It’s not fair to him, I know, but I’m grumpy.”

“What else is new?” Harry teases, and Louis’ jaw falls open in mock shock.

“Hey! I am not grumpy all the time.” He pouts.

“If you were one of the seven dwarfs, you’d be Grumpy. Maybe Sleepy.” He argues, teasing. He loves that things are that comfortable between them already. Once Louis decided to forgive him, a fact he can’t even properly put into thoughts how grateful he is for, the tension between them seemed to dissolve right away and they fell back into step as if they never even drifted off the path to begin with.

“Well, you’d be Dumb and Moronic.” Louis retorts.

“I don’t think those are actual dwarf names.” Harry chuckles. “There’s Dopey, if you’d like to use that one to insult me.”

“No, Dopey’s not good enough. I had to invent two new dwarfs just to insult you with.”

“And yet I feel honored, somehow.” Harry grins and Louis scrunches his nose up at him, then winces.

“I heard you walked today.” Harry mentions.

“Yeah. A whole ten feet. It’s not as bad as you would think, but it gets tiring really quickly.” He says. “I can’t put all my weight on my bad leg yet, and I can’t even use crutches or a walker or anything cause I’ve only got one good arm. My therapist had to hold me up the whole time and I barely did any work, but I’m still exhausted from it.”

“Well yeah, you’re all bruised up and weak and medicated. I still can’t get over the fact that it’s supposed to be good for you to try moving so soon.”

“I know. You’d think I’d get at least a few days to relax first.” He complains. “Did I tell you I’ve got metal in me now? They had to use rods and screws to fix my break. I’m like a cyborg. It definitely feels like I’ve got robot legs.”

“You said everything hurts. What’s ‘everything’? Are you in a lot of pain right now?”

“It’s really not that bad, I’m practically numb with the amount of shit they’ve got me on. It only hurts when I laugh.” He explains. “Which was really a pain when Niall was here earlier, cause the way he deals with anything is by cracking jokes.”

“Did he try to hit on the lady nurses? I feel like that’s something he would do.”

“No, he’s got a girlfriend.” Louis reminds him, and that makes things a little weird because that would be borderline _cheating_ and suddenly it’s like an elephant just stomped its way into the room. “She was here with him, actually. And Liam and Zayn.”

“Right. I forgot about her. Never really saw her that much.” He shrugs.

“She’s nice. She’s pretty and she smiles a lot and laughs at all of his jokes, even the lame ones. You can tell she’s really into him.”

It’s weird hearing Louis talk about his life and the people in it now, because Harry feels like he’s missed so much. Niall had only been dating this girl for a few weeks around the time they broke up, but if that wouldn’t have happened then maybe Harry would’ve gotten to know her a bit by now, too. It hurts to think about all the time he’s lost with Louis, and he has no idea what they’re getting into now, or what it means for the future. If all this chatting means they’ll be something after he gets better, or if they’ll go back to staying away from each other again.

He’s afraid to ask and ruin Louis’ good mood, but he has to. He can’t let a repeat of the other night happen. He was so sure Louis had come around and found it in his heart to forgive him, and it’s not like he thought it meant they were instantly back together but it felt like they were headed that way, until Louis turned dark and sour again and wretched the tablecloth right out from underneath him and sent everything shattering against the hardwood floors. It was almost like they broke up all over again, and he’s sure that he wouldn’t survive another devastating blow like that.

“Louis…” He must be on the same page already, because he shuts Harry up before he can properly start.

“Don’t.” Louis warns. “Don’t go there, please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We have to, Lou. I need to know where we stand.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“Still? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m not mad. I’m not gonna change my mind and lash out again.” He assures him. “It still hurts, but being mad about it doesn’t help at all. And like, I guess I understand a little more now. You made a mistake. It wasn’t okay, but I don’t want to hold it against you forever.” 

“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that.” It’s like walking on clouds. He has to be careful and tread lightly or the floor will fall through beneath his feet and send him plummeting towards the ground again, but for now, he’s light and airy and it’s exhilarating.

Louis reaches his good hand out and grabs at the air like he’s searching for something, and it takes Harry a second to realize it’s his hand that Louis wants. Harry takes it for him and kisses the back of his palm before cradling their clasped fingers in his lap.

“I’m glad you’re here right now.” Louis says, as Harry’s thumb begins its automatic stroking across his hand.

“I’m not glad you’re here,” He quickly looks around, reminding himself they’re in a _hospital_ and Louis is all broken and battered. “But I’m glad you want me here with you.”

“I don’t think any of this means we can be together again though.” Louis blurts then, and he feels his heart jump and sink.

“Why’s that?”

“I still don’t trust you. It’s gonna take a long time to get that back.” He tells him, and Harry nods sincerely. Of course it is. He’s tried again with the more merciful exes of his, who gave him a second chance right away and then badgered him every minute of every day about his whereabouts and behavior anyways. A relationship with someone who doesn’t trust him isn’t something he even wants, really, now that he thinks about it. It may just end up ruining them even more.

“Also, I think maybe I should, like… work on getting better, by myself.” He muses. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I was actually doing okay without you for a while. It’s hard, but I want to learn how to do this whole ‘life’ thing like normal people. Since I’m obviously stuck here for the next sixty or so years.”

“Louis, that’s really great to hear.” Maybe it’s the slight sting of rejection mixed with the overwhelming pride he feels for Louis’ determination, but he actually feels his eyes start to well up with tears. “It’s silly, but I kind of want to cry for you right now. I’m really happy that you want to get better.”

“Oh god, please don’t cry.” Louis begs. “That’s why I didn’t want to do this. I hate seeing you cry.”

“It’s not like I do it all that often.” He sniffles, weirdly contradicting.

“Exactly, that’s why it’s terrible when you do.” Louis says.

“It’s not any better for me when you do!” He argues.

“I think everyone who’s ever been my friend has seen me cry at least once before.” Louis considers. “If you’re not used to it now, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I think you may just be the biggest wimp on the planet.”

“Says the one who just admitted all his friends have seen him cry.”

Louis punches him in the stomach, but it’s so weak and ineffective that it’s like the big bad wolf trying to blow down the third little piggy’s brick house. He laughs, and Louis yanks his hand away and pretends to pout.

“So, is that what we are now, then?” He wonders. “Friends?”

“Friends who’ve seen each other naked.” Louis decides.

“Why’d you have to bring that up? Are you thinking about me naked right now?” He teases, and doesn’t miss the slight increase in the monitor’s beeps.

“Oh, of course. I think about you naked all the time.” Louis quips. “I think about you naked even when I’m thinking about other people naked.”

“Exactly how many other naked people are you imagining? I gotta know what my competition’s like.”

Louis just smiles secretively and changes the subject. “Tell me about your day. Hospital life is boring. Take me to the outside world.”

So Harry launches into a story about a customer he had this morning who came in hoping to find his lost kitten and ended up going home with two new ones and a promise to keep checking back in case they happened to find the original baby he’d lost. He tells him all about how slow the day dragged on after that, about how he made a Starbucks run around noon and Louis wants to know exactly what he ordered and if it was any good, and it’s refreshing to have him so thoroughly interested in all the details of his life. He always listened before, but mostly it seemed like he was too lost in his own head to really hear anything.

“Can you do me one more favor before you leave?” He ventures at the end of visiting hours, after the nurse pokes his head in to tell them it’s time to wrap things up.

“Of course, what is it?” Harry asks.

“Would you go down to the cafeteria and grab me something from a vending machine? Anything, I literally don’t care what it is. I’m starving.”

“Louis, you have to eat the food they give you.” He objects.

“You should see it, Haz. It looks like something a cat would throw up.” Louis whines.

“You’re exaggerating.” Harry rolls his eyes. Louis really can be a drama queen sometimes. He’s sure they’re not giving sick hospital patients pig slop to keep them fed.

“Please?” He pouts his bottom lip out and invokes one soft eye. The other is still bruised shut and he looks so ridiculously helpless that Harry really has no choice but to give in.

“I don’t think cheese puffs and Starburst are what makes for a healthy recovery,” He berates, heading for the door. “But fine. I’ll be right back.”

In the cafeteria, there are a few stray visitors, most of which look like whoever they’re visiting isn’t doing as well as Louis is. He feels pity for them, but it also makes him grateful that at least the person he’s there for is on the right track.

There are lunch ladies preparing the patients’ dinner on trays. It looks like turkey sandwiches and applesauce and something else, maybe yogurt or mashed potatoes. It doesn’t look very appetizing, but it definitely doesn’t look like the cat barf Louis described it as either. He chuckles to himself at that.

There is a machine with chocolate chip granola bars in it, which isn’t exactly health food, but at least it’s better than crisps and candy. He chooses that one and shoves three of them in his pocket before scarfing down one of his own, so no one will suspect they’re for someone else. Louis somehow lights up when he gets back to the room and drops them in his lap.

“You’re an actual angel.” He praises.

“How are you going to eat them?” Harry wonders.

“You’ll open them for me, won’t you? I can do the rest. I do still have one good arm.” He waves it in the air as a reminder.

Harry gladly peels the wrappers open and hands one to him, and he eats nearly half of it in one bite. He stops chewing when the nurse pokes his head in the room again to remind them that visiting hours are over and it’s time to leave now.

“Thanks, Haz. You’ll come see me tomorrow too, right?”

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Harry asks.

“The kind I’d put on my hit list.” Louis mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“You have one of those?”

“Oh yeah. You were actually at the top of it for a while.” He jokes. “You’re lucky I’ve never met a reputable mobster to take care of it for me.”

Harry smiles as he makes his exit. “I think I’m just generally lucky.”

-/-

“Mum, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I am _so_ not going to move back in with you.” Louis emphasizes.

“Come on, there’s no need for a home nurse. Just let me take care of you.”

“You’re right, there’s absolutely no need for a home nurse.” He looks over at his doctor to make sure she hears that he doesn’t want any officials being sent to his flat to check up on him. “But I am twenty-two years old and enjoying my independence. There is literally nothing you can say that will make me move back home.”

She sniffles a little and pouts her bottom lip out to show that her feelings are hurt; a guilt trip. He really wishes the doctor would have waited until anyone but his mum was there to bring up the discussion of what happens after he’s released in a few minutes. It’s been a little over a week since he was admitted and he just wants to go home. He managed to talk them out of transferring him to rehab, but he’s still going to have a physical therapist come work with him for at least an hour a day and he thinks that’s more than enough. Much preferable to having his mum babysit him 24/7.

“It’s nothing personal, really. You know I love you. You can still come see me every day at mine.” He nods in reassurance. He’s glad they finally okayed him to take that stupid neck brace off.

“Your whole left side is broken. How are you even going to get around without help?”

“I’ve got three roommates, it’s not like I’m all by myself. They can help out. And my therapist will stop by while they’re at work. And I’ve gotta learn how to do some things on my own, too.” He argues.

“Doc, please tell him he’s being irrational.” She seeks help from outside influences.

“It is recommended that you have someone readily available to you at all times, in case of any incidents, but we aren’t required to send a nurse with you.” She explains. “Most patients do learn how to fend for themselves quite alright, and I’ve sent home people in worse condition than you without any extra help.”

“Thank you,” Louis relieves, glad there’s nothing forcing his mum’s hand. “See? I’ll be fine. Other people have survived just fine without moving back in with their parents.”

“Other people aren’t my baby.” His mum pouts.

“Anyways,” He grumbles, attempting to wheel himself towards the door. He can’t believe he’s in a fucking wheelchair to begin with, let alone that he can’t even control it because he’s only got one working arm and would just end up spinning in circles if he tried to steer with it. They wouldn’t let him walk out because he’s still not very good at that; he can sluggishly make it about 50 feet before feeling tired now, so he’d probably be able to get to the car alright, but there’s no way he’d be able to navigate stairs or stand up long enough to ride the lift to his third-floor flat.

His mum argues his decision the whole way home, claiming that he really should just let her take care of him because what if something happens when no one is around to help and then she comes to visit and finds him dead on the bathroom floor or something of the same terrible nature? He’s honestly worried that she may just kidnap him and they’re secretly on their way to her house, not his own. But even though she’s not happy about it, she does take him home.

His meds are wearing off, everything is starting to ache again, and he just wants to be carried upstairs and put back into his own bed until Harry gets off work and comes to see him. He tunes her out eventually, but she notices that.

“If I were Harry, you’d let me take care of you.” She mentions, snapping him back to attention.

“That’s different. Harry isn’t my mum.” Thank god, he thinks.

“What’s going on with you two, anyways? I was surprised to see him visiting you so often.” She tries to be casual and unbiased about it, but somehow her tone makes it sound more like _I hope you’re not considering taking him back._ His whole family hasn’t been silent about their disapproval of Harry after the break up. Except for Phoebe and Daisy, who probably forgot he even existed after so long, and would most likely be overjoyed if they ever did see him again.

“We’re friends for now. It’s very recent.” He tells her curtly.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea? I mean, he did—”

“Mum, can you not? I’m tired. Let’s just not do this now.” He dismisses her argument before it even gets started, and thankfully, she backs off. He does love her, but he’s beyond ready for her to leave him alone now. The awkward trek upstairs as she maneuvers his chair through the halls of the building is grueling, and time seems to drag as she babbles on about who even knows what anymore.

She tucks him into bed, helps him take his meds, sets down a glass of water on the nightstand, and excuses herself shortly after, saying something about how she has to get back to work and she’ll be back with the girls to see him tomorrow.

He doesn’t remember dozing off, but Harry is by his bedside when he wakes up. He’s on the floor, back propped against the nightstand, legs stretched out in front of him, open book in his lap. He closes it and stands up when Louis calls his name from the bed.

“Morning, gumdrop.”

“God, not that again.” Louis groans. He’d roll over and hide his face in embarrassment, except he still can’t really move much on his own.

“Sorry. You were my gumdrop before, and you still are now.” Harry maintains, lightly brushing his fingers across one of the nastier purple and greenish splotches on his arm. “It’s probably more fitting than ever, honestly. You’re all soft and colorful.”

“I can see out of both eyes now.” He changes the subject, making the effort to blink his black eye. It still hurts to open it all the way, but at least he’s making progress.

“I noticed. You do look a little better every day.” Harry comments, “How do you feel?”

“My leg is starting to bother me.” He admits. He must have slept long enough for his pain killers to wear off a bit. It’s nothing unbearable, but he knows if he doesn’t take them now that the sharp throbbing will overwhelm him soon. “Is my medicine still on the nightstand? Will you hand it to me?”

“Can you open it on your own?” Harry concerns, handing him the sealed orange bottle.

“Let me try.” He’s determined to ask for as little help as possible from anyone, but especially Harry, who’s giving nature he’s already taken so much advantage of in the past. That was good for neither of them.

He attempts to twist the cap off, but it has to be pushed down on at the same time and that’s a bit of a task when he can’t use his other hand to steady it. He fiddles with it for a moment and Harry just stares at him, raising an eyebrow, the smirk on his face growing as he watches Louis struggle to do the simplest thing.

“Fuck you.” Louis gives up eventually, cursing Harry for his mock amusement as he hands it back to him. “Open it for me, please?”

“How many do you need?” Harry chuckles, twisting the cap off in one easy motion.

“Two every six hours or as needed for pain.” Louis recites, and Harry drops two little white circles in the center of his palm. He props himself up on his good arm and throws his head back, and Harry’s already holding out the glass of water for him. He takes it and quickly washes the pills down.

“Are you still taking everything else, too?” Harry wonders about his usual medications.

“No. They said painkillers interfere with antidepressants.” He tells him.

“So what are you supposed to do about your mental health while you’re in recovery?”

“They recommended keeping myself surrounded with family and friends and positive influences. My regular therapist is on call in case of emergencies.” Louis scoffs, because none of that has ever helped him before. Even medical professionals don’t really know how to treat mental illness. Normally it would be frustrating, but he feels okay now. It’s weird, but maybe the accident was exactly what he needed to start getting better again. He mostly feels tired and everything aches, so maybe his brain just doesn’t have enough room to focus on anything except feeling better, and making his life better.

“You know I’m here too, right?” Harry offers. “If you ever need to talk, I’m still always here for you.”

“I know. You’re not really trained to talk people out of suicide, though. You literally gave me permission to just do it if I wanted to.” He smiles, remembering. It really was the most touching thing anyone’s ever said to him, and he’ll always keep in mind that if he ever does end up doing it someday, at least Harry won’t hold it against him. But in retrospect, it’s probably not the best thing to say to someone who’s telling you they want to die.

“It made you feel better, didn’t it?” Harry refutes.

“It did.” Louis agrees, smile growing so wide it reaches his bad eye and hurts a bit.

 Zayn cracks the door open just enough to poke his head in the room.

“Hey Lou, how ya feeling?” He checks.

“Just peachy.” Louis really hates that question even when he’s not bedridden from visible injuries. He can’t stand it now. He’s not sure how he’s even supposed to answer, when nearly every part of his body feels so weak and achey, even when he’s numb on painkillers.

“Cool. You gonna offer to share the wealth or what?” Zayn nods towards the bottle of pills on his nightstand.

“You’re asking if you can have some of my prescribed medication, to take for your own enjoyment?”

“Liam and I thought it would be cool to get really loopy on them and then fuck. Don’t ruin our fun.”

Louis rolls his eyes, and even that’s uncomfortable. “Whatever. I’ve got like three refills anyway. You want some too, Haz?”

“Sure, why not?” Harry shrugs, holding his hand out for Zayn to drop a couple tiny pills into. “You wanna get really loopy and then fuck too?”

“Not a chance.” Louis waves him off, smiling in mock endearment. “It hurts just to think about. I don’t need any more broken bones.”

“Christ, that one’s just too easy.” Harry chuckles, and Louis punches his arm as he swallows the pills. “What is this anyway?” He probably should’ve asked that before taking them, but he checks the label on the bottle now. Oxy-something way too complicated for him to even try to pronounce. Oxy-anything is always good stuff, though.

“Ruffies.” Louis deadpans. “You’ll black out in about five minutes and then me and my friend Zayn here are going to take care of you.”

“And you thought you had to drug me for that, why?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Part of the torture is that you’ll have no recollection of what you missed while you were out.”

“I had no idea you were so intentionally evil.”

“This is fucking weird. What’s even going on here anymore? Are you two back together yet or what?” Zayn looks quizzically back and forth between the two of them.

“We’re just friends.” Louis says, and Zayn scoffs, smirking.

“Yeah, okay. I’ve heard that one before.” He mocks. “Whatever. I’m not getting involved. Just glad to have you back, man.”

“Glad to be back.” Harry smiles at his back as he leaves the room with his drugs.

The rest of the night is _fun_. Louis wants to be moved to the living room, so Harry helps him walk, careful not to hurt his fragile bones, and tucks him in comfortably along the couch. He sits at the end of it and puts a few pillows in his lap to elevate Louis’ bad leg, and sometime throughout the night, he ends up lightly massaging his foot on the other one. Louis thinks maybe he shouldn’t let him do that, since they’re trying to be just friends now, but it feels good and everyone is high and happy and he doesn’t want to start any trouble.

With the four of them gathered together, just talking and laughing and somewhat watching TV, it’s almost like things are back to normal again. Niall gets home late and it’s clear by his expression when he walks in and sees everyone hanging out that he’s still not forgiven Harry, but after he gets passed a couple pills too, he forgets that completely and everyone enjoys themselves.

Eventually, they do have to call it a night. Zayn and Liam excuse themselves first, giggling and whispering to each other like little schoolgirls with crushes as they retreat to their room, and Niall grumbles about how it’s only a matter of time before the sex noises start to fill the air. He leaves soon after too, even saying goodnight to Harry before he’s out of sight, and then it’s just the two of them again.

The room is dark except for the glow from the TV and they’ve exhausted their vocal cords for the day, so there’s not much left to talk about. The pain meds have worn off for Harry, but Louis is still on them and they do make him tired sometimes, so he drifts in and out of light sleep. Harry keeps up the steady kneading on his foot, and they end up sitting through two more episodes of How I Met Your Mother before Louis finally speaks up.

“You can’t sleep here, you know.” He tells him.

“I kinda figured.” Harry resigns easily, but there’s a hint of regret in his voice.

“Sorry. I just don’t think it would be good.” Louis maintains. As much as he wants to share a bed with Harry again and cuddle him till his brains turn to mush, he knows it’s simply not that easy anymore. “We are just friends now. There has to be some boundaries.”

“’Just friends’ is weird. Boundaries are for suckers.” Harry complains.

“Get up, sucker.” Louis teases, lightly nudging him with his good foot.

“Now or later?” He suggestively raises his eyebrows, and Louis chuckles, then winces and clutches his chest a moment later. His other injuries are easy to remember, since they’re all visible, but the cracked ribs always slip his mind until they start to hurt.

“Sorry. I gotta stop being so funny, I guess.” Harry apologizes.

“Don’t, I love you.” He blurts, and Harry pauses for a moment, letting his jaw fall open slightly as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips like he can’t believe the words, even though Louis has said them a thousand times before.

“What did you just say?” He checks.

“I said don’t stop being so funny, it’s why I love you.” Louis elaborates.

“Fuck, it feels so good to hear that again.” Harry’s dimples are showing now, expertly illuminated in the low glow of the room. “I love you too, Louis.”

“Good. Get out.” Louis nudges him with his foot again, harder this time, like he’s trying to mean it.

“’I Love You, Now Leave Me Alone: The Story of Louis and Harry’.” He teases, making Louis chuckle and squint his face in discomfort again and Harry apologizes, again.

“Sorry. I’ll leave now. I’m bad for you.” He says, carefully standing up and gently setting Louis’ legs back down on the pillows.

“You just said a mouthful.” He comments.

“If you’d like a mouthful too, I can take care of that for you.” Harry gets in one last innuendo.

“Get out!” Louis uses his good arm to hit him with a pillow and he laughs, bright and sunny and deep and dimpled and Louis feels his heart flutter at how beautiful it is to get to hear that on a regular basis again.

“Okay, okay. Is there anything you need before I go?” He checks, and Louis deliberates for a moment.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t really need to move to my bed or anything.” He dismisses him. “But if I think of something, I’ll be sure to call you in the middle of the night and make you drive all the way back over here to help me.”

“You know I would.” Harry smile is so fond that it actually makes Louis smile fondly back. “Anyways, I’ll be back tomorrow after work. Try not to miss me too much.” He leans down and brushes Louis’ hair back to kiss his forehead, just like he always used to.

“Goodnight, gumdrop.” He calls on his way out the door.

“Night, princess.” Louis calls back.

\--

“Ow, Haz!” Louis complains, pulling his face away from the makeup brush jabbing at his bruised eye. It’s about two weeks after the accident and the swelling on his eye has gone down completely, but it’s still an angry purple color. His mum conversationally suggested trying to cover it earlier and Harry jumped at the chance. Louis still has a hard time saying no to anything that makes him that happy, and it’s not like he’s got much else going on his life at the moment, so he grudgingly let him.

“Sorry. It’s a bit hard to aim when you keep squirming.” Harry scolds, turning Louis’ face back so he can better see what he’s doing.

“Where did you even learn how to do this?” Louis grumbles, closing his eyes again as Harry brushes concealer around the ugly one.

“I have a third job working street corners at night, obviously.” Harry jokes. “The girls taught me everything I know.”

“And to think, I got all those freebies and didn’t even realize.”

“What’s this about freebies? You’re like hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, pal. I’ve been keeping a tab.”

“Hundreds of thousands? I think that’s a little pricey. You’re not all that.” Louis teases, and Harry’s jaw falls open in mock offense.

“It’d be wise not to insult me right now, I’ve got a makeup brush near your face and I’m not afraid to use it.” He threatens. “Need I remind you that you’re still mostly immobile?”

“You’re right. Sorry.” Louis backs down. He is making progress with his physical therapy, walking and standing and doing stupid stretching exercises to get his general movement back, but it’s not like he could do much to fight back if Harry wanted to mess his face up. “You’re worth more than a hundred thousand. You’re worth millions and billions.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Really though, where’d you learn to do this? I’m curious.” He tries again. “I never knew you had a hidden talent for makeup.”

“I used to let Gemma put it on me when we were kids.” He explains. “Honestly, with the amount I learned from her, I should be earning millions painting celebrity faces in Hollywood right now, not fixing a measly black eye.”

“Oh, well aren’t I lucky that you’ve decided to grace me with your professional skills then?” Louis coos.

“And don’t you forget it.” Harry retorts, just as he finishes up. “Done. Have a look.”

When Louis opens his eyes again there’s a hand mirror in front of his face and his own reflection stares back at him, just as clear and unsoiled as it was before the accident. He uses his good arm to reach up and touch his eye, just to feel that the bruise is actually still there. It’s completely hidden behind a perfect blend of makeup, the exact color of his original skin tone. He can’t even find where it ends and where his natural skin begins.

“Well? What do you think?” Harry wants to know.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Louis groans. Like he even needed another reminder that Harry is infinitely talented and wise and way out of his league.

“Pilot a spaceship, probably.” Harry shrugs nonchalantly, “Though, if I could look at a manual or something before takeoff, I’m sure I could figure that out too eventually.”

Louis rolls his eyes and he’s surprised to find that it doesn’t even hurt anymore. “When did you get so cocky?”

“Is that really the word choice you want to go with?” Harry challenges. “Think about who you’re talking to.”

“Never mind, you’re impossible.” Louis resigns.

“You love me though.” Harry pokes his cheek and Louis can’t help the smile that spreads because of it.

“I love your cooking. Will you make me dinner?” He knows he promised himself not to take advantage of Harry’s willingness to help out anymore, and he’s been doing really good sticking to it, but cooking is something Harry actually likes to do, so really, everyone benefits.

“Of course. Any special requests?”

“I’m in the mood for something with chicken. I hope that’s not too much trouble.” He does the sad, helpless puppy face that he knows Harry is powerless against.

“I’d walk to the edge of the earth and back just to make you happy. Chicken it is.” Harry obliges.

“Cool it with the dramatics and bring me my food.” Louis brushes him off and Harry grins all the way to the kitchen.

He’s only gone for about ten minutes when the doorbell rings. He figures it’s probably just his mum or something, but then Harry’s voice gets a little loud and shouty when he answers it.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I just… felt like I should stop by. I do still care about him, too, you know.” It’s unmistakably Michael’s voice that answers. Louis doesn’t even remember the last time he saw him. They’d been avoiding each other’s work schedules as much as possible even before the accident, but of course there were a few awkward run-ins here and there. They didn’t speak much and Louis wasn’t interested in dragging it out any longer than it needed to be.

“If that’s true, why are you only trying to see him now?” Harry argues. The rest of his work friends have already visited their fair share of times, but never with Michael.

“I didn’t think he wanted to see me.”

“Neither do I.” Harry tells him.

“Haz, it’s fine. Let him in.” Louis calls, and he can practically feel Harry’s resistance, but a moment later, Michael steps into the living room. He looks the same as ever, except his hair is bright pink as opposed to the bright blue it was the last time they were momentarily forced to be near each other.

“Hey, Lou. How are you feeling?”

“Better than last week.” Louis shrugs.

“I heard you’re out of work for like, three more months. I’m pretty jealous of that.”

“It’d be great if I could move a little more.” He complains.

“True. I guess there’s a price to pay for everything.” Michael agrees, and then the room gets quiet and awkward for a moment. Louis really doesn’t have much to say to him and it’s weird, he wonders why he even came here. “I just wanted to, um, I haven’t really properly apologized, have I? I kinda felt like you just didn’t want to hear it.”

“So you waited until I was weak and vulnerable and couldn’t choke you to death.” Louis concludes.

“I guess, yeah. I probably do deserve that, though.”

“You definitely do.” He agrees. “You were a shit friend to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I really am. I just—”

“It’s okay though.” Louis interrupts. He really doesn’t want to go through this again. He’s already forgiven Harry, and he just wants to put the whole thing in the past and move on. He doesn’t want to argue or be mad about it anymore.

“Really? I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive me or anything. I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“No, it’s fine.” Louis assures him. “It’s weird, I feel different now. Holding grudges just seems really pointless. All it does is make me tired and more upset.”

“You sound just like Ash.” He notices.

“Yeah, well. He may have given me some things to consider.” Louis admits. Really, without Ashton blowing up on him before the accident, he probably would have stayed adamant about never forgiving Harry. He feels so grateful for the revelation and the fact that it’s allowed him to have Harry back in some way at least, that he figures maybe he should try it with other people too. He never really liked Michael all that much to begin with, but at least they don’t have to be enemies anymore.

“So that’s it then?” Michael checks. “We’re friends again?”

“That’s a bit of a strong word.” He’s reluctant. Harry gets to be his friend again, because he’s _Harry_. Michael, he’d be perfectly fine without. “I’m not mad at you anymore. We’ll leave it there for now.”

“Okay, I’ll take what I can get.”

Michael comes back to visit again later that night, with the rest of the crew from work. It’s a little weird to hang out with him and Harry in the same room, but also comforting in a way. Harry stays close to Louis all night and doesn’t make much of an effort to talk to Michael, but their brief moments of joking or laughter together are actually nice to watch. It doesn’t bother him like it probably should. He can tell their interaction is strictly friendly and casual, so it’s more reassuring than anything. Like he can truly see that it was just a one time thing; there can’t possibly be anything going on because he can’t sense even the slightest bit of sexual tension between them.

It’s entertaining to see Harry and Ashton being civil towards each other, too. He never would have dreamt that everything could possibly go from absolute misery to total chaos and end up becoming something so smooth and wonderful again, maybe even better than ever.

Watching the people he cares about interact so effortlessly with each other, having them all together, being surrounded by nothing but love and laughter, fills him up with hope and for the first time since the accident, he actually feels truly _glad_ that he survived it. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be around right now to witness everybody come together. Things probably wouldn’t have ended up so harmonious and all of the same people he feels so lucky to have right now, would be mourning his absence. He’s glad he didn’t end up putting them through that.

“You were right about this whole forgiveness thing.” He makes sure to tell Ashton before he leaves that night.

“I know I was.” Ashton accepts easily. “I’m surprised you even took my advice, but it’s so nice to see that you did. Isn’t this much better than everyone fighting with each other?”

“It is. This is really great. I love seeing everyone get along.” Louis muses. “And I’m so happy to have Harry back in my life again.”

“Having someone you love around as a friend definitely beats not having them around at all.” Ashton agrees, looking back at him with such fondness it’s impossible to misunderstand how the statement applies to his own life.

“I love you too, you know.” Louis tells him. “I’m sorry it’s not in the same way, but you are really important to me, and I hope we stay friends for a long time.”

“I do too.” Ashton’s smile turns into and adorably dimpled grin. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

\--

A month passes easily. He’s slowly getting better with his movements; he can walk around his flat now, stand long enough to brew himself some tea, and take brief showers on his own. He gets bored a lot during the day, so he actually looks forward to his physical therapy sessions, and doing the simple yet effective exercise program they came up with for him in his free time. The pain killers still make him drowsy and sluggish though, so if he’s not learning to move again then he usually sleeps or just lies down. Thanks to his good old friend Depression, he’s used to doing that often. He has been able to catch up on a lot of reading, and Lottie helps keep him occupied by recommending various TV series for him to watch on Netflix as she finishes them.

He still feels mostly good about everything. He sees Harry every day and even though their feelings for each other are as obvious as a sunflower in a field of tulips, they’ve been doing well not blurring the lines. Harry still makes his stupid innuendos on a regular basis, but that’s just who he is. He doesn’t actually pressure Louis into making their relationship anything more than just friends, and he’s glad for that. Things are better between them now than when they were friends before, because there’s no uncertainty. They know exactly what they are and what they mean to each other and it’s comfortable.

He’s definitely doing good about not letting his whole world become HarryHarryHarry, but he is slowly learning how to rely on him again. He gives him little tidbits of personal thoughts here and there, trying not to panic about how he’ll take them. He’s always been good about listening, and he has a way of saying things that make Louis feel better when he worries, but he also has a history of sometimes using things against him when they fight. There haven’t been any fights lately, but Louis is wary of what may happen in the distant future. He’s just trying to take everything in stride and hopefully someday learn to fully trust him again.

It helps that Harry’s begun to open up to him more in return, too. They were both so focused on Louis before that his own issues got neglected, and Louis doesn’t want that to ever happen between them again. He encourages him to share more things about his every day life, and in turn, Harry begins to feel more comfortable sharing the really important things, too. Louis gets to hear the full story of what happened between him and Nick, and for the first time in ever, he was the one comforting Harry through a fit of tears while he got emotional over the darkest parts of their abusive history. Not that he ever likes seeing Harry so distraught, but being there to see him unravel like that, and being the one to help stitch him back together has really made Louis realize he needs to keep in mind that Harry needs attention too; sometimes the careful and loving brand that you can only get from someone who would travel across the universe just to make you smile.

He hasn’t been feeling suicidal lately either, but he still lets his mind get carried away with fears sometimes. Time kind of seemed to stop for a minute with his accident, but now that he’s well into recovery, he’s left alone with his thoughts a lot. It gets particularly bad one night, when he’s lying in bed and can’t fall asleep because his arm is bothering him. It itches and it’s sweaty and the cast prevents him from doing anything about it, so he gets lost in his head as a distraction and starts fretting over the future again. He could call his therapist, but it’s half-two in the morning and he doesn’t want to bother him over practically nothing. Talking to him doesn’t really help things anyways. Talking to Harry does.

He hates to wake him up in the middle of the night, but even though it’s only been a few hours since he went home, Louis misses him and he feels like if he can’t get these thoughts out of his head they might end up taking him back to that dark place that he hates even more.

Harry’s voice sounds scratchy and slurred as he mumbles a “hello?” when Louis calls him up.

“Harry, do you ever think about the future?” Louis blurts right away.

“What?” He grumbles, and Louis can picture him sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Like, where do you see yourself in ten years? Or five? Or two? Because I can’t see myself at all, and I’m scared.”

“Lou, are you alright?” He’s instantly concerned.

“I don’t know. Am I ever alright?” Louis muses. “I just feel like… I’m floating. In a bad way. I’m floating through life and I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going and it terrifies me. Like, what the hell happens when I get better, physically I mean? Do I just go back to work and fall into the same rut I was in before the accident? That’s not what I want. But then, if not that, then what is there for me? What else can I do? Where can I go? What do I even want to do, and where do I want to go? Everyone else seems so sure of themselves. Why can’t I be that way, too?”

“Louis, calm down. You’re overthinking.” Harry soothes. “Nobody’s completely sure of themselves one hundred percent of the time, trust me. Nobody really has any idea what they’re doing. You’re not alone.”

“Then how come everyone else is so much better at not freaking out about it than I am?”

“They probably aren’t. I’m sure they call up their exes in the middle of the night to seek advice, too.”

“I don’t need advice. I need you to tell me you have no idea what you’re doing either.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing either.”

“Well, now I know you’re only saying it because I told you to.” He pouts.

“Yeah, but it’s still true.” Harry assures him. “Where do I see myself in ten years? Five years? Two? I honestly have no fucking idea. I’m only twenty. I don’t know. ‘Not homeless’ is the best I’ve got, and I’m not even entirely sure about that. Something terrible could always happen to make my family lose the shop and go bankrupt and lose the house and force us to live in a box under a bridge.”

“You can always come live with me if you need to.” Louis offers.

“Thanks. I’ll go tell my mum and Gemma not to worry right now.” Harry says, and Louis can’t help but chuckle.

“Honestly, Lou. It’s okay to not have everything all figured out. Most people don’t. Just take it one day at a time.” Harry calms him, always the voice of reason among his intensely dramatic thinking. “Focus on getting better first, then worry about where your life is going from there. Maybe use this time to figure out what’s important to you.”

“All I know is… I think I want to be here for it. I don’t think I want to die anymore.” He admits. “Right now, when I think about killing myself, it’s like… scary. I don’t want to. I mean, it’s sudden and recent, so I don’t really trust this feeling to stay. Maybe next week I’ll start thinking about it and it’ll be tempting again, but for right now, it isn’t.”

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I really am. That’s huge progress.” The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.

They stay on the line in silence for a little longer, Louis focusing on the soft sounds of Harry’s breathing through the receiver. It constantly feels like there’s a deadly hurricane going on around him and Harry is the anchor that keeps him centered in the eye of the storm.

“You okay now?” Harry checks after a while.

“No. But. I think I do feel a little better.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures him. “Can you just… not hang up? Can we sleep like this, on the phone? Technically that doesn’t count as sharing the same bed, right?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one making the rules here.”

“Well, I say it doesn’t count.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay on the phone with you all night if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you too, Lou. More than anyone.” Harry sounds like he’s dozing off again, but Louis doesn’t mind. Just having the connection through the phone is comforting. Almost like Harry’s there, holding him like he used to. It’s not the same, but at least he knows that if he wakes up in the middle of his sleep, he can talk to the phone and Harry’s voice will come right through it.

\--

Five months is how long it takes for him to regain almost full usage of his leg. His other injuries healed periodically; the bruises fading first and the cuts scarring soon after, the cast came off after about a month and a half, and the cracked ribs fully fixed themselves months later. His leg was a much more serious break, and the recovery time for it was normal, but he hadn’t realized how much time he wasted lying down before the accident until he could barely move even when he wanted to.

Now, thanks to physical therapy, he’s gotten used to exercising every day. As soon as they discharged him from it, the first thing he wanted to do was just _run_. They told him it should be okay, but to start slow and stop immediately if he felt any discomfort. So Harry offered to go running with him.

Summer’s just winding down now so it’s nice out, but there is a bit of a chill in the air that says autumn is on its way and the breeze feels good on Louis’ skin, mussing his hair as he treads down pavement of the winding bike path through the park with Harry keeping pace next to him.

“Do you see this right now? I’m fucking  _jogging_ , Haz. This is incredible!”

“I know, I can hardly believe it myself. I can only imagine how you feel.” Harry shares his joy, grinning madly as he watches Louis stride along all on his own.

“I think this is for real. I think I’m like, actually into exercise now.” The stretch in his muscles feels good and refreshing. It’s become part of his daily routine and it’s something he doesn’t want to give up now, just because he’s healed. It’s comforting to have some sort of direction in life, even if only a teeny bit. At least he’s found a new, positive and healthy interest.

“Really? Don’t tease me. I’ve been dying to try teaching you yoga again ever since our last attempt.”

“You can. I want to learn. Maybe once we’re done here, we can try some poses.”

Harry laughs, all bright sunshine and dimples. “Let’s not overdo it today. You just got done with physical therapy, and you can’t even fully run yet.”

“You’re right. I probably shouldn’t push it. I just feel so free!”

“Do you even have any idea how adorable you are right now?” Harry is absolutely beaming, maybe even moreso than he is.

“I’m sweaty and my hair is a mess and I’m in a ripped t-shirt and basketball shorts. I really don’t want to know.”

“You’re also happy and excited and you’ve got that stupid grin on your face that makes me really miss kissing you.”

“Well, keep missing. A week from now I’ll be able to outrun you and then you’ll have to catch me first.”

“A week? That’s a bit optimistic, don’t you think?” Harry chuckles. “I’ve been working out for years. You really think you can learn to outrun me that quickly?”

“I feel like I can do anything right now.” He admits. He’s about 99 percent sure that if he concentrated hard enough, he could grow a set of wings and fly two laps around the moon.

They jog together like that until they’re both out of breath and Louis has to slow to a power walk, then eventually just a regular walk, until the sun starts to set, painting everything pink and orange and telling them it’s time to go home. Harry makes tacos for everyone when they get back to his flat, still sticking to his vegan diet by making himself separate tofu ones, and they have their usual guy’s night in and everything just feels right with the world.

Harry still isn’t allowed to sleep over, but tonight they accidentally fall asleep with Louis’ feet in his lap, because they’ve gotten so used to sitting that way that they do it even though Louis’ legs are all healed now. He wakes up a bit early to Harry spooning him on the couch; arm draped lazily over his torso, mouth hanging agape as a little bit of drool drips from the corner of his lips, and Louis reflexively feels the urge to kiss him awake.

He sits up instead, the movement effectively jostling Harry into consciousness.

“Shit,” He realizes almost as soon as his eyelids flutter open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep here, honestly.”

“It’s okay. I’m the one who forgot to kick you out before I fell asleep.”

Harry sits up too, reaching his arms into the air to stretch while he yawns. His hair is a tangled disaster of curls and petals, his clothes are ruffled everywhere, and there’s an awkward mark on his face from the imprint of the couch pillows. Louis hasn’t seen him so raw and unkempt like that in so long, it reminds him of when they were together and he gets a montage of memories of the two of them in bed, kissing and talking and laughing in the morning light and that’s exactly why Harry had to be banned from staying the night while they’re trying to stay friends.

Louis slips up for just a minute, lurching forward and pressing his lips to Harry’s before he can really think about what he’s doing. Harry doesn’t fight it, of course. He instantly leans into it, smacking their lips together in an uninhibited explosion of urgent desire, breathing quickly heavying as he takes all that Louis will let him get.

Louis’ heart and head are fighting against each other, one of them screaming in protest while the other screams with happiness. It feels so good to kiss him again after so long of going without it, it’s flames and currents and craving and it’s everything, it fills him up with every goddamn emotion in the world, from absolute fucking bliss to pure, merciless torture and he can’t let himself give in.

It’s about resisting, for something bigger than this feeling, or Harry, or their past or their possible future. He has to be strong for himself this time. Not anyone else. He has to learn that in the end, the only one who’s going to look after him is him. And in order to be able to take care of himself, he has to know when to hold and when to fold.

He breaks away, but keeps their faces close. He presses their foreheads together and Harry’s mouth hangs inches away from his own, taking warm, heavy breaths as he tries to catch his.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I love you, Harry. I really do.” Louis stares as deep as he can into pools of sparkling emerald, pours his whole soul into the words when he speaks, branding them with meaning. “But I can’t do this with you again. Not right now.”

“I know. It’s okay. I love you too. I understand.” He reaches up and rests his hand on the back of Louis’ neck, raising goose bumps as he plays with the little tufts of hair at the nape. “You need to take care of yourself first. And I still have to earn your trust back.”

“You shouldn’t wait for me.” He tells him. “I don’t know if I ever can do this again. Us, I mean. It’s not fair of me to keep you waiting.”

“It’s worth it.” Harry assures. “If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone.”

“What happens if it doesn’t work out?” If he never really gets over it. If he can’t ever look at Harry as his boyfriend again, without some kind of doubt tacked onto the end of it.

“Then I guess I’ll have to learn to want other people.” Harry hums contentedly, like it’s no pressing concern, and really, it isn’t. They’ve got all the time in the world. “But I’ll still always want you more.”

Liam comes out of his room then, of course, catching their faces that close as they stare into each other’s eyes and try not to force their lips back together. “Oh, fuck me. Are you guys really doing this whole ‘just friends’ bullshit again?”

“We are just friends.” Harry laughs, pulling away, and Louis feels the loss and wants to pull their faces back together for more kisses but he knows it’s not a good idea and his moment of weakness was only fleeting. “It’s different this time, for real. Just friends.”

“Please.” Zayn scoffs, snaking his arms around Liam’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “You two have never been just friends. You had us all fooled for a while there, but I give it like a month before I’m cleaning fucking curls out of the shower drain and stepping over Harry’s pants on the floor in Lou’s room again.”

“At least we’ll get to wake up to fresh breakfast again, too. I missed that.” Liam agrees.

“Absolutely none of that is going to happen, so don’t start getting your hopes up.” Louis maintains, but he can’t help the smile playing at his lips. Harry is really back in his life, regardless of what their relationship is, and his friends are happy about it and he’s happy about it and for the first time in a long time, he feels hopeful about the future. He’s really committed himself to getting better and maybe with that he’ll end up learning how to trust people again, and maybe he’ll never really trust Harry again and maybe they won’t end up married with kids in twenty years, but then, maybe they will.

Whatever happens, he finally feels positive that Harry will be there somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. that’s the end of that. like i promised, kinda bittersweet i guess? they don’t end up together (yet, anyways. i like to imagine that louis eventually gives him another chance someday) but they’re still back to being just louis and harry in love.
> 
> there are a bunch of you that i know i can count on for feedback, but if you've never commented on this story before, now would be the best time to do so. i really would appreciate hearing all your final thoughts. feel free to ask questions, too, if there's anything you're curious about.
> 
> sorry i ramble too much but please please please don't be afraid to tell me how you feel about the ending :) and thank you so much again for everything i love you all xx


	21. Epilogue: you will see it's easy to be loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i know i told most of you i was done writing this story for a while, because i didn't want to get anyone's hopes up for this. i really didn't think i had it in me to do any kind of follow-up, but all of a sudden this thing just happened in a matter of like two days, so... surprise! here's another 12k of the aftermath for you all :) enjoy xx

It happens on a night no different from any other, after almost a year of nothing but pure friendship between them. They’re settled in on the couch, Louis’ feet in Harry’s lap while he absently kneads them in the low glow of the television light. It’s almost time for Louis to kick him out for the night, except this time he’s wondering why he even should.

Things between them are better than ever. Harry is an absolute constant in his life, he plays an important part in all the best memories he has (and some of the worst, but.) He’s always the one Louis goes to when he feels down, and he still has that way of knowing exactly what to say to lift him back up. Louis isn’t as good at returning the favor, but after all Harry’s done for him, he’s expert at lending a shoulder and an ear in Harry’s much less frequent moments of distress. Harry isn’t a crutch anymore; he’s a  _partner_ , and Louis likes the sound of that.

He nudges Harry’s leg with his foot to get his attention, and when Harry looks up at him and their eyes catch each other’s, Louis can’t help the little smile that curves his lips at what he sees there and in that moment, they both just  _know_.

Harry leans over, slowly, carefully, giving Louis plenty of opportunities to object if he wants, but he’s so far from doing that that he reaches out to pull Harry in quicker, by the back of his neck, and it’s like everything melts into place from there. How he’s missed the feel of their lips meshed together, the taste of Harry on his tongue and the way their breathing speeds and their hearts race like they’ll never be able to get enough.

He doesn’t wonder anymore if this is the right thing to do, if he can handle jumping into this with Harry again, because he feels so at peace with how things have been going for them as good friends that nothing has ever felt more right in his life. He doesn’t push him away or kick him out this time, but there’s definitely a pair of pants left on the floor for someone to step over in the morning.

\--

“Did you know you kind of lean to the left when you stand?” Harry notices as he washes Louis’ back the next morning in the shower. “I think that leg is a bit shorter now.”

“Battle scars.” Louis mumbles lazily, entranced by the gentle scrub of the soapy loofah on his skin.

“You’ve got quite a few of those now, huh?” Harry notices, poking a finger into his side where a lengthy one runs across.

“Can we not talk about it? I see them every day.” He complains.

He may have been lucky enough to survive the accident with only a few broken bones, but the scar damage is repulsive on his left arm especially. Little blemishes that look like nothing more than a series of playful cat scratches. He has them scattered haphazardly across his torso, some on his legs, just a few tiny, faded marks on his jawline that can easily be masked by keeping his face a bit scruffy. Looking at them though, is nothing but a reminder of the stupid mistake he made in what he classifies as the absolute darkest time in his life. He tries not to pay them too much attention, as it just makes him feel trapped and suffocated and soiled.

“I think they’re cool.” Harry says, as if reading his mind to counter the negativity. A finger carefully glides over the water-slicked curves and angles of a tiny cluster on his lower back, raising goose bumps all over, despite the warm water everywhere. “Looks ace, like faded white ink tattoos. And they make great little targets for me to kiss. I want to find them all.”

He wondered what all that was about last night, how Harry’s lips chose the oddest little spots on his body to pause at. He just figured Harry wanted to savor it as much as he did, their first time sleeping together after much too long. He knows he himself was a bit overwhelmed at having all of Harry’s body to explore again, hands running over warm skin, lips grazing little dimples and birthmarks and new ink stains he’s never seen before.

“You have some actual new tattoos for me to find.” He switches the focus. “How come you never told me about them? I’m insulted. I thought we were best friends.”

“Boyfriends.” Harry happily corrects, and Louis doesn’t deny it.

“Still best friends, too.” Louis reminds him, and Harry lightly grips his hips.

“You are my best friend, you know.” He says, and Louis feels the soft press of lips against the back of his neck and a shiver through his system. “I think… I mean, you know I’m not proud of what happened before, but I’m proud of where we are now because of it. I’m so happy to have you back, and I promise not to ever, ever hurt you that way again. I mean it. I’m not going to let you regret this.”

He swallows hard at the reminder. Not that he ever forgot, but suddenly he’s wondering what it’s going to be like, now that they’ve finally crossed the line again. This is a last chance, Louis’ final plead for Harry to be the one. If he ruins it this time, forgiveness won’t even be an option. It’s taken him so long just to be able to trust him enough to take the leap again, and now that he knows he can make it just fine on his own, he wouldn’t be so gracious. Once is a mistake. Any more than that is a pattern as far as he’s concerned, and he won’t stand for being just another name on Harry’s list of past victims.

“As fucked as it is, I think you did us a favor in the end.” He says softly. “We needed some time apart. I needed to get my head on right, and you needed to learn your lesson. We both grew and learned so much about ourselves, and our mistakes when we lost each other.”

“We were doomed from the start.” Harry sighs.

“Just that time.” Louis turns to face him, making the sincerity clear in his eyes. “I’m better now, and so are you. If you can promise to be faithful, then I can promise not to let myself get that bad ever again. For you.”

“I think that’s fair. Though, I feel like you should be making that promise for yourself, not me.”

“I already have.” He smiles. “A little extra motivation never hurt, though. I’d hate for you to feel so neglected when I clearly adore you.”

“I adore you more.” Harry hums, softly smiling as he traces a finger along the stubble of Louis’ jaw, admiring. It makes him feel so fluttery and light headed, the way Harry seems to never be able to get enough of him. But then, he’s never really gotten used to Harry’s beauty himself, either.

“If you say so.” Louis mumbles in false agreement, allowing himself to be lulled back into a trance by the soothing scrub starting up on his chest this time.

\--

It’s true that he’s moved mountains with the progress he’s made lately, as far as his mental health goes. He’ll probably never feel okay with using the word  _cured_ to describe his condition, because people with depression are obviously prone to it, and there’s always the chance that a simple trigger could send him spiraling again. But his coping methods have improved enough that he’s able fight off the lows much more effectively, working it out of his system with a run or some football or even yoga, anything but trying to sleep and medicate it all away. He still reads a lot, too, and visits his family so often that Lottie has been adamant about him keeping up with their shared tv shows. And of course, there’s always Harry and his other friends by his side in moments of weakness.

Like a couple months later, when he’s just gotten off from a long shift dealing with a string of particularly difficult, demanding, outright rude customers who seemed hell-bent on getting him to explode on them over a cup of fucking yogurt. He managed to keep it together during, but high levels of stress make everything so much harder to deal with, and standing for eight hours at a time isn’t easy on his bad leg, so that contributes to the long list of reasons he just doesn’t want to deal with the world that night. His doctor warned him that he’ll have to be careful about possible long-term effects of the break, and all things considered, a bit of dull pain every now and then should be a blessing. But Louis is grumpy and tired and it’s hard not to fall back into his destructive patterns when he gets that way.

Harry finds him hidden under his bed covers when he gets home late that night.

“You okay?” Louis feels the bed dip with his weight.

“No.” His curt answer is muffled by the pillow and the blanket he refuses to pull back from his head.

“Is it something I can help with?” Harry checks.

“No.” Louis says again because he’s stubborn, and Harry knows him well enough now that he doesn’t take it seriously.

“Did you do your mood thing?” He wants to know.

In Louis’ still regular though much less frequent therapy sessions, they’ve come up with a little exercise to help him stay grounded through anxiety attacks. He simply takes a moment to breathe, calm himself, and appreciate of all the reasons he has to live; each person he cares for, who cares for him in return, all the memories he has left to make with them, the potential his life holds. It was hard at first, coming up with such an extensive list of motivators and learning how to truly feel grattidue for them, but after repeating the chant so often in his head just to keep his moods up, he can probably recite it backwards in his sleep by now, so it doesn’t always work anymore.

“Of course I fucking did, Haz, it didn’t help.” He snaps, finally throwing the duvet off his head to sit up and face him.

Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed slightly and he’s clearly gone into that sickeningly sweet, attentive boyfriend mode he naturally defaults to whenever Louis is having a bad day/week/life.

“Just checking. Do you want to talk about it, then?” He offers easily.

“I’m tired of talking about it. I’m upset that I’m tired of talking about it.” The words sound weird coming out of his mouth, he knows that most people would look at him like he’s speaking gibberish at this point, but Harry gets it.

It started with a bad day at work and the negativity just built from there until it became all the same old things bothering him again, the ones that never quite go away. Thoughts of how useless he feels, how life is just a pointless waste of time, how nothing he does is ever good enough when at the end of the day, the nagging emptiness is still buried somewhere deep inside. There’s only so many different ways he can explain it before he runs out of words, leaving him with nothing but heavy, silent melancholy.

It’s a good thing Harry doesn’t need to hear him say it to be able to feel it.

“I know. Talking about it never really changes anything, does it?” He muses, nailing it exactly. “But you have to, because not talking about it is somehow even worse.”

“I sometimes just want to rip my hair out and scream until I physically can’t anymore.” He vents. “I want to fall on my bum and throw a tantrum in the middle of work. I want my mum to tuck me in to bed and read me children’s stories and kiss me goodnight and just take care of everything for me like parents do when you’re a kid and everything is still easy.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be taken care of anymore?” He still relies on Harry to do little things here and there, like laundry and cooking and sometimes cleaning up (he’s gotten better at not being such a slob, but Harry’s standards of clean are still a bit different than his), but he refuses to let him become like a babysitter ever again. He doesn’t need to be coddled into getting out of bed, or reminded to shower and feed himself like a catatonic vegetable.

“I don’t. But like, I do?” He sighs, long and contemplative. “It’s just so hard. I wish I didn’t have to try so much to fix myself. Why did I have to be broken in the first place? Things would be so much easier if I weren’t cursed with this bullshit.”

“You were never broken, Lou, you’ve always been lovely exactly the way you are.” Harry leans his head on Louis’ shoulder and looks up from under his lashes. “Some people have physical health problems. Does that make them broken? No. It’s just an illness.  _You’re_  not depression, you _have_ depression. There’s a difference.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harold. How much do I owe you for this session?” Louis quips.

“Infinity kisses for the rest of our lives?” Harry tries the cheer-up tactic instead and it works a little better.

“Granted. You can start collecting your payment right now.” He leans his head over to press their lips together briefly, soft and sweet and comforting. He’ll probably never get over the way his bones go sort of pliant every time they kiss, even when it’s just quick and casual.

“You’re trying, babe.” Harry says when they pull apart, stroking his scarred arm in comfort. “It’s okay to feel sad and it’s okay to want to give up sometimes. The important thing is that you’re still here. You’ve made it through everything so far, and you’re doing so well now and that’s proof that you can do it. You’re still here, and I’m so proud of you for it. I love you so much.”

Louis sighs, thinking of how hard it’s been sometimes to make it this far, but keeping in mind that he didn’t feel this way yesterday and probably won’t tomorrow. His bad moods are rarely lasting now. He mostly just has to wait them out.

“And do you know who else loves you?” Harry pokes him in the side, trying to get him started.

“Stop it.” Louis brushes him off, pouting.

“I’m serious. Tell me who else loves you.” Harry urges. Louis knows he’s only trying to help, but he already tried this exercise earlier and it did nothing for him. Still, Harry’s wide doe eyes make it easy to want to appease him.

“Zayn and Liam.” Says Louis, thinking them up. Even though they’ve moved into their own place now, they still make time to see each other on an almost daily basis, and he knows they’re always just a phone call or a short drive away if he ever needs anything.

Harry smiles and kisses him quiet again as a reward for playing along.

“Niall and Emma.” Louis says when they part, thinking of the now inseparable blonde duo that occupies Zayn and Liam’s old room until they can find a place of their own too, which would leave the flat to just him and Harry all by themselves. The intimacy of the idea makes his heart race with panic and excitement all at once. He’d hate to miss out on living alone with Harry; he got a taste of it once when they went camping together ages ago, and it still tops the list of some of the best days of his life.

He earns another kiss so he keeps going, effectively feeling better now and encouraged for more.

“My mum. And my sisters.” He makes sure to see them often, always looks forward to their sleepover nights when he’s babysitting the twins and mum gets home late, so he secretly lets them stay up past their bedtime to watch X-Factor with the rest of the bunch.

“And your mum and your sister.” He tacks on quickly, thinking of their frequent family dinners now and how much he enjoys learning to cook, mostly to impress the two of them when they come home to meals including things like steak and pork. Anything but the rabbit food Harry usually tries to stuff them with.

Harry kisses him four times and he thinks of more ways to be rewarded, fills himself up with more thoughts of love and happiness and good people and all the good memories he’d be missing out on with all of the people he loves most.

“Ashton and Calum and Luke.” He thinks of music and laughter and wasting time at band practice and on lazy days at work. “Maybe even Michael too.” Things will probably never be great between them, but they are friends again at least. He’d miss the guy’s newfound fascination for tattoos and the way he’s always trying to convince Louis to let him dye his hair.

More Harry kisses and more good feelings.

“Eleanor and James.” Sometimes Harry comes to see him at his work, but Louis makes it a point to start visiting him at the shelter again, too. The more he gets out and surrounds himself with good people, the better he feels. So he has time for everyone now.

“Don’t forget Diana.” Harry reminds him, and then he starts making kissy noises at the air. He calls her name and a moment later, the bedroom door pushes open and she hops on the bed, a fiercely purring motorboat.

It was only after ages of begging and countless persuasive blow jobs that Louis agreed to their animal addition. He likes cats alright, but living with one is a whole other realm. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the snowy little fluff ball though, eyes still blue from being found torn from her mother before she was ready. One look at her and he caved easily. It’s actually a bit ridiculous how attached he’s gotten, considering how reluctant he was to bring her home in the first place.

“How could I ever forget my sweet baby?” He coos to her figure at the foot of the bed, and she crawls forward to nudge her face against his jaw and snake her body alongside Harry’s, urging them to pet her until she curls up into a gently purring lump between them and Louis feels just as fuzzy and warm on the inside as she is on the outside.

“See.” Harry whispers, careful not to disturb her sleep. “We’re here. We’re all here and we love you and we’re rooting for you.” He kisses his forehead this time, appreciating. “You’re doing so good, Lou. Don’t start thinking about giving up now.”

“You’re just babbling nonsense now. Go to sleep.” Louis brushes him off, but there’s a smile on his lips and in his voice and all around.

“Not nonsense. Truth. Love.” He yawns once, big and dramatic like a lion, making Diana’s ears twitch in alert response. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Haz.” He reaches out to brush some curls out of his eyes, already fluttered shut. He got home so late and dozed off so quickly, he must’ve had a busy day too, but regardless he stayed up just to make absolutely sure Louis was alright. “Thank you.”

\--

Time passes and things only seem to improve between them and Louis still has bad days here and there, but hey, so does everyone. Mostly they’re both happy and in love and Zayn and Liam have started teasing them about what they call Honeymoon Phase 2: The Sequel. He wonders if they’ll ever grow out of that can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other feeling, and thinks probably not. He can’t imagine a reality where he stops being thrilled to call this beautiful boy his own, especially now that he’s learned to be more grateful and appreciative of the things that bring him such joy.

Things are almost too perfect, to the point where it makes him suspicious. He pays careful attention to Harry’s behavior now, keeping a look out for any visible changes. He never noticed anything before the big confession last time, and it’s not like he’s  _expecting_ to find anything now, but he can’t help the gut feeling that something must be coming, a fight or a fall out or who knows what. Happiness never lasts this long for him and he’s afraid to trust it.

“Honey, I’m home.” Harry calls as he lets himself in one night.

“Hey, look at me!” Louis calls from the kitchen, where he’s turning off the stove after frying a batch of perfectly browned taco meat.

“My little chef prodigy. How cute are you?” Harry grins at his accomplishment and wraps his arms around him from behind, nuzzling his face into his neck, leaving a quick kiss that has Louis’ toes tingling.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He beams proudly.

“I’m touched to know that I’m the reason you picked up such a crucial life skill.”

“You and your darling little family.” Louis credits. “I don’t know if I can do tofu yet though. Sorry.”

“It’s the same concept, but you’ve got to taste it to tell if it’s really done.” Harry explains. “It’s okay though, I don’t mind making some for myself. I know I’m the only odd one out.”

“But I want to learn to cook for you, too.” Louis says. “I’m sure I owe you like, a thousand meals by now, with how often you make food for me.”

“A thousand and four, actually, but who’s keeping count?” Harry teases, earning a chuckle.

“A thousand and four it is then. I’ll start looking up recipes after dinner.” Louis wiggles out of his embrace to turn and kiss him silly. He really fucking loves this boy and his cheeky little hippie heart. It scares him sometimes, how deeply they’ve fallen back into each other and how easy it feels to love him with everything he’s got, despite what happened in the past. He wonders if he’s just setting himself up for another disaster.

“You’re home at a strange time.” He notices then. When Harry didn’t come home after work, Louis just assumed he was stopping for dinner at his mum’s, but he’d be home much later if that were the case.

“Stopped by Ed’s for a bit on my way home. He wanted to play this new song for me.” Harry has a habit of being very obvious about avoiding eye contact when he’s lying, and Louis watches carefully as he moves to the counter and tears off a tiny piece of lettuce to nibble around the edges.

“Did he? What’d you think?” Louis attempts to lead him into a corner.

“Practically perfect, of course. He really is a genius.” Harry gushes. “He played a few actually, and we tweaked them a bit and then just got to talking, you know.”

Harry’s not stupid to begin with, but he knows Louis on top of that, so it only takes a moment and a brief shared look before he catches on.

“Nothing happened.” He tells him before Louis can even make any vocal accusations, which really wasn’t his intent anyways.

He doesn’t want to believe Harry would ever cheat again, but he knew his worrying about it would be an issue an eventually. It’s not something you ever really get over, no matter how much you adore the person or how sorry they say they are. If it happened once, it can always happen again. And Harry has plenty of history with it happening again.

“You don’t have to tell me that every time you hang out with someone else.” He says, but it comes out sounding like a lie. The better part of his brain does trust him, but the tiny, doubtful part in the back of it would probably only be fully placated by a twelve page essay titled “Why I Love You and Won’t Ever Hurt You Again” by Harry Styles, every time he comes home from anywhere.

“Apparently, I do.” There’s a slight edge to his voice that makes Louis wonder if he’s being irrational about this. He already has the tendency to over-worry about little things that don’t even matter, so it’s only natural that he’d do the same with something that definitely does matter.

But he knows about the aftermath of Harry’s past relationships, if they can even be called that. How Caroline used to call him at least thirty times a day to make sure he was behaving. How Brendan clung to him like a helpless puppy, incessantly whined about how much he loved him and needed him and made sure everyone knew they were each other’s. How Taylor literally stalked him for weeks just to try catching him screwing around again.

He knows he has a right to be wary, but he can’t let himself take it too far. Harry loves him and he’s trying; they both love each other and they’re _both_ trying. They expected there to be some challenges.

“I’m sorry, Haz. I love you.” He plays the guilt card instead. Not that he doesn’t love Harry and love telling him so, but it’s what made him confess that first time. Louis remembers very clearly, the way all he did was tell Harry that he trusts him and it all came spilling out. One thing he can count on is that if there really is something going on, it won’t stay a secret forever.

“I don’t mean to make you feel accused. I just wonder sometimes. I love you so much and I can’t go through that again.”

Harry closes the distance between them, hugs Louis to his chest and softly pets his hair.

“I know, I know. I love you too, more than anyone.” He pauses his comforting stroke to push Louis’ hair back and kiss his forehead. “Ignore my attitude.  _I’m_ sorry _._ It’s frustrating sometimes, but I do understand. I have no right to be cross with you for having suspicions. You’re trying, and I feel grateful every day that you even gave me the chance to make it up to you in the first place.”

“Just don’t…” Louis hesitates, not really knowing how to have this conversation. He wishes there were some way to be absolutely sure it’ll never happen again, but being with Harry is always going to be a risk. “Just, if you ever feel like you don’t want this anymore… I’d rather you tell me that than to find out you’ve been sneaking around.”

“None of those things is ever going to happen, but okay.” Harry resolves. “If that’s what you need, then I promise to tell you if I ever change my mind about us.”

“Thank you.” He reaches for his hand to twine their fingers together. “I do trust you, Haz, I just… need some reassurance, sometimes.”

“Is this reassurance enough?” Harry moves his hand down to the front of his pants, where there’s something growing there.

Louis yanks his hand back and laughs endearingly. “You’re ridiculous. How was there anything about that conversation that could possibly turn you on?”

“Your bum looks fucking delicious in those jeans. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I walked in.”

“Well, we’ll have to do something about that then, won’t we?”

“Do you think we can make it to the bed, or is here alright?” Their eyes stay locked as he hugs Louis in close and reaches around to grab a couple eager handfuls.

“After dinner, we’ll go right to bed and you can have me to yourself all night.”

Harry whines an impatient protest at the  _after dinner_  part.

“Who even cares about food right now?” He drawls, stealing a kiss intended to be persuasive.

“I do.” Louis says, breaking them apart to stop the temptation.

As if on cue, a bedroom door opens and two blonde bedheads wander into the kitchen, sniffing at the air.

“Dinner ready yet?” Niall asks even though he’s already at the counter, starting on fixing them a couple plates.

“And they do.” Louis tacks on as a follow up. “I slaved over a hot stove for almost twenty minutes today, and all my hard work and dedication is not going to waste.”

“Gosh, a whole twenty minutes? Good on you, Louis. How would we ever survive without you?” Emma quips.

“I don’t know, ask your boyfriend.” He nods over to where Niall’s helping himself to a mountain of meat and cheese and toppings and taco shells. “I mean, garbage disposal.”

“You’re such a tease.” Harry complains into the shell of his ear, for only him to hear.

“Making you wait for it is half the fun.” Louis says simply, satisfied smirk creeping onto his lips as they all sit down to enjoy their meal together.

\--

As the weather changes again and the holidays begin it starts to become a regular thing, these Harry and Ed hangouts. Louis has been friends with Ed for a long time, but never as much as Harry is. He wonders if he should take the time to get to know him a bit better, since Harry’s spent enough time around all his friends to be considered just another one of the guys at this point. He wants to be a good boyfriend and spend more time in Harry’s life, too. It’d be a lie to say there isn’t a part of him that’s curious about what they’re really up to all the time, though.

So he asks if he can come along one night and Harry delights, wiping away some of his suspicion at the situation. Things are different when he’s there, though. Obviously there’s no way to know exactly what it’s like when it’s just the two of them, but he sort of feels like a third wheel. From Harry’s stories, mostly all they seem to do together is play and write music, but there’s none of that at all while Louis is there. They smoke and play FIFA and Ed does show them some new songs, but only after Louis asks to hear them. He doesn’t miss how frequently Harry and Ed share little secretive looks that definitely aren’t meant for him to see, and that’s when the first real red flags start to go up.

“What was all that staring between you guys about?” He asks Harry about it later that night, when they’re home snuggled together on the sofa in front of the telly. Not accusing, just curious. He’s not entirely sure if it’s just something his paranoid brain concocted up on its own anyways.

“You noticed that?” Harry frets.

“You were doing a shit job at subtly, if that’s what you were aiming for.” He says, softly stroking the fur of the sleeping animal next to him, so he doesn’t have to make too much eye contact.

“Kind of. It’s a secret.” Harry says.

“What kind of secret?” Louis wants to know, and Harry’s answer makes his stomach drop.

“The kind you’re not supposed to know about.”

“Well, why not?” Louis presses. “Why are you keeping things from me?”

“It’s nothing like that.” Harry assures him, “It’s just a surprise. You’re not supposed to know about it  _yet_.”

That does calm his nerves a bit; Harry wouldn’t be talking about it so casually if he really did have something incriminating to hide, but now he’s wondering what kind of part Ed is playing in a surprise for him. Why wouldn’t Harry go to one of Louis’ best friends to plan something like that, rather than one of his own? It doesn’t make sense to him and something fishy is going on, he’s sure of it.

“Does anyone else know about it?” He asks next.

“Nope. Just me and Ed. I don’t want it slipping through to you from someone else.”

“Harry, I really don’t like this. It feels weird.” He just comes right out and says it because fuck if he’s going to let communication issues come between them again.

“We’re not fooling around.” Harry sighs. “I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“Well, then tell me now. I don’t want to be surprised.”

“But I want you to. It’ll be so worth it.” Harry beams. “It’s not something I can just tell you, it has to be shown and experienced.”

“Then show me.” Louis demands.

“Not a chance. You’ll just have to wait till your birthday to find out.”

Nearly a month of waiting, knowing his boyfriend is hiding something big that involves spending too much time with someone else, is going to drive him mad. He rings Ed the very next day to press him for info.

“What’s all this happening with you and Harry?” He jumps right to the point.

“Good to hear from you again too, Louis.” Ed chuckles.

“I’m serious. He won’t tell me what you’re hiding.”

“And I’m not going to, either.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not at all, but I’m sure you are anyways.”

“Yes.” Louis admits easily. He keeps trying to calm himself, but Harry’s keeping secrets and doing things behind his back and it’s making him wonder how much else he has to hide.

“Don’t be. He loves you, man. You’re way past being in the clear.” Ed comforts. “And I’d never even dream of being the one to come between you two, anyways. He’s safe in my hands, trust me.”

“Have you guys ever hooked up?” Louis blurts then, and Ed gets quiet for a minute, lets out a deep sigh that makes him a bit sick to hear. He’s always known Harry as someone who’s gotten around though, so it’s not like Ed’s answer really changes anything.

“Ages ago, like, before he even met you.” He admits, quickly tacking on, “It’s ancient history. You’ve seriously got nothing to worry about. My experimental phase is long over, I’m not even remotely into men that way anymore.”

“Does he talk to you about things?” Louis wants to know. “Is there—”

“Louis. He  _loves_  you.” Ed repeats, voice firm and reassuring. “He hasn’t told me about anyone else, because there isn’t anyone else to tell about. It really is just an innocent surprise. I don’t know what he said to you that’s got you so riled up, but there’s really no need for it. I have to go now, I’m in a bit of a rush, but seriously, don’t worry about it. I promise there’s nothing to be suspicious of. Goodbye and I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up with a click before Louis can even begin to protest. His obsessive mind still can’t drop it, though.

\--

Harry is still acting the same as he always does, even more so now that the holiday spirit is in the air. He’s happy all the time, stringing garland and tinsel and fairy lights all over the flat, securing bows and wreaths and stockings on the walls, playing Christmas music and baking Christmas cookies and wearing a different Christmas themed jumper every single day.

Louis loves teasing him for how each one seems to be more ridiculously hideous than the last, even though he wears them too, ironically. He thought that’s how anyone wore ugly Christmas jumpers, but no, Harry genuinely adores them and this whole holiday more than he can contain.

“Should I wear the blue one with the reindeer on it today, or the green one that looks like an elf costume?” Harry deliberates one morning before work, sorting through a pile in his dresser drawer.

“Do you hear yourself when you speak, or should I repeat that for you?” Louis delights with laughter.

“You laugh now, but I know that whichever one I don’t pick will be on you later.” Harry grins as he decides on the reindeer one. He pulls it over his head in one motion, adjusting the festive crown of red roses atop his head once it’s snug, and then he tosses the other option towards Louis.

“Why that one, then?” He wonders, sliding into it, not even bothering to wait for Harry to leave to sneak the awful things on anymore. He loves how tiny and safe he feels, how warm and comforting it is to wear Harry’s oversized clothing, regardless of aesthetics. He just chooses to borrow the festive ones to appease him and hey, it is all in the holiday spirit.

Harry stalks his way across the room, snaking his arms around Louis’ waist and beaming down at him. “I thought you’d be cute as an elf, but this is more than I was prepared for. Are you sure it’s even legal to be that adorable?”

“I haven’t been stopped yet, so.” Louis shrugs innocently and Harry kisses him till his brain feels like cotton candy.

“That’s funny, I don’t see any mistletoe in here.” He teases when they part.

“Oh, is that the only way I can kiss you now?” Harry hooks a finger over the collar of his sweater, tugging lightly.

“Well, it is Christmas.” Louis says.

“Eight days to go.” Harry counters.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.” Louis makes a show of visibly scanning his eyes around the room, a gesture to all the gaudy decorations hung up, the literal and figurative flashing lights that scream  _Christmas_. He never really got all that excited about the holiday before, as it always overshadows his birthday, and certainly not enough to go all out embellishing the place like this.

“Don’t be a Grinch.” Harry pokes him on the tip of his nose.

“I am encouraging an essential holiday tradition. That is the least Grinch-y thing one can do, in my opinion.”

“You’re mocking me.” Harry accuses.

“Noooo, never.” Louis sarcastically denies, making Harry’s amused smile dimple his cheeks.

“Alright, but just remember that you asked for it.” Harry kisses him once more, before breaking their embrace to finish getting ready for the day.

Louis comes home that night to a ceiling absolutely covered in green leaves and red berries. There is literally a bud of mistletoe on every square inch of space as far as he can see, and he has no doubt that all the other rooms are done just the same. His jaw drops and all he can do is stand there in awe, wondering where the hell Harry even found all of this, let alone the time to hang it up in just one day.

Harry pokes his head out from the kitchen, an adorable dash of cake powder smudged on one of his cheeks, and a Santa hat nestled in his curls. There’s the faint sound of “Winter Wonderland” drifting through the door in the background. Diana pushes her way through his legs and over to weave around Louis’s. She’s licking her lips like Harry’s been feeding her human food even though Louis always scolds him about doing that because she gets greedy.

“Do you like it?” Harry beams of his work, and Louis can’t help his fit of jolly laughter.

“You should be the one in this sweater right now, not me.” He says, bending to pick up the purring cat and cradle her in greeting. “You’re truly like a fucking elf, Jesus. How’d you manage to do all this?”

“Elf magic.” Harry winks, disappearing again into the kitchen. “Now no matter where we’re kissing, it’ll always be under the mistletoe!” He calls, just as Louis follows him into the mess of flour and colored icing all over the countertops. 

Harry’s working on frosting what looks like a freaking seven layer cake, and there’s a pile of candy canes next to it that he can only assume are somehow going to be the final touches. Or maybe Harry’s just been gnawing on them all day to keep a sugar rush going.

“I think you need an intervention. It’s Christmas madness in here.”

“We’ve never been together for it before.” He says. Two years ago they were miserably broken up for the holiday and the one after that, Anne closed up the shop for two weeks and took the family on a trip to Harry’s grandparents’, so sharing this time of year with each other is all brand new to them. “I’ve got twice the time to make up for now. Here, come taste.”

Louis sets the cat on the floor, giving her back a loving stroke before sending her off on her way. He closes the distance between the two of them and Harry brushes a dab of icing across his bottom lip before he smiles and leans down for a sweet, messy kiss under the blanket of mistletoe.

“I love you.” Louis says, breaking the kiss to lick the remainder of it off his own lips.

“Mm, I love you too.” Harry drawls, easily dropping what he’s doing to give Louis his full attention. He pulls him in again; molding their lips together nicely, quickly adding tongue. Louis tastes peppermint inside his mouth and wants more of it and _Harry_ and of course, he’s always on the same page. Chilly fingers slip their way up from Louis’ hips to slip underneath his jumper, bringing his body to live with a quiver at the sensation. Harry’s hands roam freely over warm, golden skin, and kisses litter the light scruff of Louis’ jaw, down the length of his neck, his collar bones and the tiny, visible bit of ink scribbled across them.

He reaches down to pull the jumper over his head, but Harry swats his hands away immediately.

“Leave it.” He mumbles against his skin, moving his lips back up to sloppily kiss any protests away. “I want you just like this. Right here.”

He takes over then, forcing Louis into a corner of the kitchen so his back’s against the counter. He lifts him up and sets him down on it, legs dangling over the edge, splayed open just for him to fit between. Louis’ breath hitches when Harry palms him through his jeans, grinding his hand against the growing bulge. He reaches up for a handful of Harry’s hair, effectively knocking the hat off his head, and Harry replaces the friction on his cock as he swivels his hips forward, groaning as his head falls down to watch them grind together.

Harry’s panting little staccato breaths as he thrusts into the heat, and Louis’ quickly on edge. Harry’s so big and hard, even through layers of fabric, and he tastes like sugar and jingle bells and Louis’ throbbing in his pants as their bodies rock together, steady in their practiced rhythm. It’s all hungry lips and greedy hands and frantic grinding that ends with soiled jeans and breathless, blissful laughter and kisses among the warmth of each other and their cozy little Christmas kitchen.

\--

He easily forgets all about his anxieties after that, until Harry comes home late the next night after stopping at Ed’s. And the night after that. And the one after that.

He knows it’s not fair to accuse Harry of anything based on a silly suspicion. He’s perfectly lovely all the time, so cute and jolly in his festive enthusiasm. If he really were hiding something ghastly, there’s no way he’d be able to keep it together like that, Louis thinks. And why would he be so open about spending so much time doing things he’s not supposed to?

But Louis is still a pro at overthinking, worrying too much about little things he knows shouldn’t be such a weight on his mind. He can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny possibility that Harry isn’t even going where he says he is. Maybe Ed’s just covering for him. Maybe he’s hiding things from Ed, too. Maybe nobody really knows what’s going on here except Harry himself.

It quickly becomes exhausting to constantly go from being all happy and giddy in love with him one moment, to side-eyeing and questioning his motives later and having to always bite his tongue over the matter, for fear of stirring the pot.

“I know you’ve said not to worry, but you know I can’t help it.” He confronts him one night as Harry’s nearly just walked in the door. His cheeks are still flushed pink and his fingers frozen from the cold and snow outside.

Louis has been pacing the floor for an hour, finally at his limit from waiting night after night for him to get home from being with another man. He’s glad that at least they’re able to have civil discussions about things now though, without any yelling or arguing involved. Just mutual listening and understanding, exactly how it should be.

“I need to know what’s going on, Harry. I can’t do this any longer. It’s not that I… I mean, I’m trying to trust you. I am. It’s not that I actually think you’re screwing around on me, it’s just that I hate not knowing what you’re up to. Please just tell me what the big surprise is.”

Harry blinks a few times, stunned by the ambush. He looks back at Louis for a moment, all wide eyes and furrowed brows, and then lets out a deep sigh of resign.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes right away and Louis knows that’s just how he is, yet still feels the edge of a blade twisting in his stomach as he prepares for the worst. Harry pulls the beanie off his head, slides out of his winter coat and hangs them on the hooks by the door.

“I didn’t know you were so upset by this. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m… afraid of being another crazy second chance.” Louis admits. “I’m trying to trust you, and be okay with everything, and not act on every little detail that makes me wonder about these things because I love you and I know that you love me and we both want this to work. But you did cheat on me once before, and yes we’ve moved past it, but now that you’re keeping secrets I can’t help that it’s just what my mind automatically keeps going back to.”

“Louis, I appreciate the effort, but I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to keep these things to yourself for my benefit.” Harry says. “If you ever feel wrong or bad about anything that I’m doing, call me out on it, please. I told you, I don’t blame you for having doubts sometimes. We knew it would be that way.”

“You’re not though, right?” Louis checks, still impatient to have his mind put completely at ease. “I mean, there’s no one else…”

“No. Of course there’s no one else.” Harry crosses the room until there’s only inches between them and brushes his hair back, leaves a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into their room and comes out with a small brown journal, scribbled all over with little doodles and chicken scratch phrases he can’t quite make out from afar. Harry hands it to him and urges him to open it, and it takes Louis a few moments to fully understand.

There are words everywhere, lines of poetry that don’t seem to make much sense, all scattered around and crossed out and scribbled over and re-written. Arrows drawn back and forth, tiny notes scrawled sideways and in corners and things like that. He flips through quite a few pages of nonsense before realizing what it all means.

“Are these song lyrics?” He guesses out loud, looking up from the pages, feeling the excitement bubble inside. “Did you write me a song?”

“Happy birthday.” Harry smiles with a sparkle in his eyes. “There’s a few of them in there, actually. Or, almost. Only one is finished right now. With a few more days, I would’ve had them all done…”

“Shut up.” Louis says, but he’s grinning like a madman and he thinks he might cry happy tears for the first time in his life. “You mean to tell me that the music you’ve been ‘helping Ed tweak’ all this time was actually him helping _you_ do this for me?”

Harry nods eagerly.

“Well, don’t I feel like a right twat.” Louis mumbles, half to himself. “Here I am worrying about my boyfriend cheating on me, meanwhile all he’s really out doing is making something great out of his love for me.”

“Don’t feel bad. This is a happy moment.” Harry refutes. “Turn to the last pages. That’s where the finished work is.”

He quickly cards through them until he reaches a cleaner page, with neatly written line after line arranged into a full, flowing song. There aren’t any music notes and Louis wouldn’t be able to read them anyways, so he can’t imagine how the song actually sounds, but the words hit him like an avalanche down a snowy mountainside, burying him under mounds of heartfelt emotion that touches him in ways he’ll probably never be able to find the words to describe.

 

_You tell me that you’re sad and lost your way_

_You tell me that your tears are here to stay_

_But I know you’re only hiding_

_And I just wanna see ya_

_You tell me that you’re hurt and you’re in pain_

_And I can see your head is held in shame,_

_But I just wanna see you smile again_

_See you smile again_

_But don’t burn out_

_Even if you scream and shout_

_It’ll come back to you_

_And I’ll be here for you_

_Oh, I will carry you over fire and water for your love_

_And I will hold you closer_

_Hope your heart is strong enough_

_When the night is coming down on you_

_We will find a way_

_Through the dark_

 

His tears don’t stand a fucking chance. Harry’s written him the most beautiful thing; it perfectly captures everything he must have been going through, falling for someone as fucked and depressed as Louis was. The way he’s always known how sad Louis is and how all he’s ever wanted is to help him through it, to be there for him in any way he can, because  _he loves him so much_  and fuck, a couple drops slip out and soil the page before Louis’ even done reading it all.

 

_I wish that I could take you to the start_

_I’d never let you fall or break your heart_

_And if you wanna cry or fall apart_

_I’ll be there to hold ya_

_You tell me that you heard it’s all in vain_

_But I can see your heart can love again_

_And I remember you laughing_

_So let’s just laugh again_

 

He chuckles at that line, a sputtering thing that comes through his tears because Harry is the most wonderful person he’s ever met, despite all his flaws and mistakes and everything they’ve been through together. Ever since giving him another chance, Harry’s done everything he can just to prove that he’s changed for the best and it’s all led this to this point, this final grand gesture that’s opened Louis’ mind to truly understand how deep this boy’s love for him flows and why he’d never want to risk fucking it all up again. 

It feels like all the bullshit they put up with from each other in the past  _needed_ to happen in order to reach this little slice of happiness they’ve finally found together, and it’s so indescribably worth it. He’d go back and do it all over again in a heartbeat if he knew this would be the end reward.

“I really hope those are good tears, and that you’re not crying because of my attempt at song writing…” Harry breaks his sappy, mental fawning.

Louis nods furiously, hardly able to form the words to properly thank him for this and everything else he’s done to prove how much he means it this time.

“Haz, I—this is the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me. It’s absolutely beautiful. You’ve given me so much, and I—” He feels ridiculous in the best of ways, so deliriously happy that he has to pause to collect himself and wipe away the tears pooling in his eyes. “I love you, so much, more than anyone in the world and I just… thank you. Thank you so much, I love you.”

Harry chuckles softly at his babbling romantics. “I love you too, Louis. I’ve written music about it now, I can’t even keep it all to myself. You’re the best person I’ve ever known, and I sometimes just want to scale a mountain to shout it at the whole world.”

“This is a much better alternative, I think.” Louis smiles. “When do I get to hear it, then? I can wait for the others, now that I know. But when do I get to hear this one?”

“You guilted me into ruining the surprise, so now you have to wait for the rest.” Harry scolds. “You’ll hear it when you hear the others. I want you to get the full effect of the instruments, too.”

“But—”

“No! Absolutely not!” Harry shuts him up before he can even attempt to change his mind. “I only caved this much in the first place to calm your nerves. Are they settled now?”

“No.” Louis lies, pouting. “Maybe listening to some music would help. Perhaps a love song. For me.”

Harry smiles fondly, leans down to kiss him briefly on the lips, then disappears into their room again. Moments later, he hears the opening melody of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” pouring out through the open doorway.

“How’s this, then?” Harry calls, and Louis animates again with laughter. He follows behind him, locking them in for a night of nothing but love and cuddles and kisses under the mistletoe ceiling.

\--

It’s only a few days later, when Harry’s taking him out for yet another birthday surprise, that he gets to hear the song he’s already committed to memory without even hearing the melody yet.

Harry wouldn’t tell him where they were going even though he pestered him with guesses the whole way there. He wasn’t expecting to end up at Del Rey’s, the bar they used to frequent and where they first heard Ed’s now hit song Kiss Me, the one that always makes him think of falling for Harry from the very begging.

Now that he’s deep in the throes of love with him, of course the amorous fool would find it appropriate to revisit that spot for Louis’ surprise birthday slash Christmas slash playing party.

The place is decked out in décor and everyone’s brought presents, not just for Louis, but for each other too. All of his closest friends are there; Zayn, Liam, Niall and Emma, Ashton and the rest of the band, Ed and Eleanor and James and even though he doesn’t know most of the crowd there that night, they’re all happy and more than welcome to join in on the fun. Tonight it’s his birthday, tomorrow is Christmas, and there’s no room for anything to bring people down. The mood is up, and everyone drinks and laughs and shares presents and love and dances the night away in celebration.

It turns out to be alright that he did end up ruining Harry’s big surprise, cause the party was a big enough one on it’s own, plus he’s still got four new songs to hear, which Harry is endearingly nervous about singing on stage in front of everyone. Regardless, he manages to swallow his fears for Louis. 

Niall had been given some sheets of music to get familiar with a few days in advance, so he and Ed and Harry all take the stage together, to play an absolutely moving set that has the whole place captivated.

His magnificent boyfriend is on lead vocals and tambourine, while the two of them strum their banjo and guitar, letting Harry’s voice ring deep and strong through the place, dominating their softer supporting vocals. He’s looking right at Louis through every passionate word, with that little glitter in his eyes and a subtle smile on his lips that turns Louis’ whole universe into just the two of them in everlasting love. 

The song he got to read early, that Harry ended up titling Through The Dark, is still his favorite at the end. The others are just as fond and wonderful, but that one has the most heart, the most truth about their journey together and what it means to love someone you can’t save from their own darkness, only do your very best to help them fight it off.

He can’t help the few tears that come from actually hearing it for the first time, and his friends all notice and crowd him with drunken hugs and love and it’s like a sappy, spiritual moment between everyone coming together to celebrate Louis and Harry and the happiest day of the year. 

“That was incredible!” He hops into Harry’s arms as soon as he’s off stage, hooks his ankles around his back and fervently kisses plump peppermint lips.

“You really think so? I sounded alright? I was so nervous. I’ve never done anything like that before. I know I’m not the best singer, but I wanted to make it really special for you.” Harry sort of babbles, clearly still buzzing from his stage rush.

“What are you talking about? I love your voice, and you sounded amazing! Everyone went nuts for you guys.” Louis gushes. “Where were you?”

“I just assumed it was mostly for Ed. He’s the big famous musician that everyone came to see, not me.” Harry shrugs. “All that matters to me anyways is that you enjoyed it.”

“I loved every minute of it.” He beams, so so proud of his beautiful boy for creating such a magical, heartwarming masterpiece and having the guts to put on an equally dazzling performance just for him. “You sounded beautiful, and my songs are absolutely perfect. I love them all, but I think you know which is my favorite.” He says, and Harry’s fond smile comes to life as he takes a mental guess.

“Thank you so, so much.” Louis kisses him again, hungering for more and more. Harry is sticky with sweat all over and he’s long since shed today’s ridiculous jumper of choice, leaving him with only a thin white undershirt to cover all that gently glistening broadness and Louis wants to feel it all over.

“You are so, so welcome.” Harry chuckles. “I’m so glad to see you this happy.”

He says it like he’s really saying something so much more. Like he doesn’t mean just tonight, but it’s a subtle reminder that he’s proud of how far Louis has come, how much harder things were for him and how different things were between the two of them at this time only two tiny years ago. Louis wants to love him into the next fifty.

“Ed got us some studio time next month, so I’ll be able to get you a proper recording soon after that. Sorry it’ll be a bit late. I wanted to have it for you in time.”

“That’s alright, you can just sing them for me until then.” Louis hums, hooking a finger over the collar of his shirt, peering down at all four of his nipples and the butterfly inked just above his tummy.

“Something on your mind?” Harry inflects, raising a coy eyebrow.

“Your naked body on top of me.” He says simply, still admiring the view, head swimming with spiked egg nog and dirty thoughts.

“I like the sound of that. Shall we excuse ourselves early tonight?” Harry suggests.

“No. I’m having too much fun.” He smiles. “I think we might both be in need of a bathroom break, though.”

Harry’s smirk spreads, Louis hops down off him and they race to the back like a couple of horny teenagers. He somehow falls into the fantasy that he’s on his knees for the dreamy guy in a cool band that everyone covets at that age, and like Harry’s the one finally getting a taste of the cute, popular footie star he’s been crushing on all year and the next day they’ll both be telling their two totally contrasting friend circles all about their luckiest hook up of all time. It’s all so dirty and fun and he feels hot and wanted and loved and happy.

They don’t even attempt to hide it when they’re done, Louis marches right out, tornado hair and ruffled clothes and all. He yells in his intoxicated bliss, punching a fist into the air, “Tomorrow’s Christmas!” and the crowd holds their drinks up and roars a mindless cheer in response.

“I turned twenty-four today!” He shouts next, and another collective toast erupts and a bunch of  _Happy Birthday_ s are thrown his way.

“I just sucked my hot boyfriend off in the toilet cause he wrote me beautiful love songs!”

This time laughter and cheers and whistles, and someone too far away to see even yells, “get it in!” and Louis feels truly invincible.

Harry comes up from behind him, disheveled curls and clothes to match his own, with that pretty, dopey grin stuck on his face. He takes Louis’ hand and twists their fingers together, laughing as he drags him back into the party madness, where they enjoy the rest of the night in a haze of love and holiday cheer with all their closest friends.

\--

Louis was careful not to have too much to drink, so thankfully his head feels okay in the morning and he remembers all the events of last night clearly. It’s definitely a night he’s going to want to replay for the next rest of his life and keep tucked away safe in his memories forever.

He’s aware of Diana sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed, but Harry is already awake next to him, smiling a soft good morning.

“Merry Christmas.” Louis smiles back.

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Harry reaches over to brush some of the bed head out of his face, ever so lightly kisses his lips.

“What’s the plan for today?” He wonders.

Both of their families are expecting to see the two of them, so he has no idea how that’s going to work. His family has gotten used to having Harry around again, though they are civil and friendly, they haven’t exactly taken him in as one of their own yet. He’s just glad they let up on him at all, though. He’s glad everyone has, because Harry’s clearly not going anywhere anymore.

“I talked to your mum a few days ago, and since she insists on having dinner at hers, she’s invited mine along too.” Harry beams, and Louis lights up at the idea of meshing their families together that way.

“’Be there at half-two on the dot, don’t forget!’” He mimics the shrill phrase his mum repeats to everyone at least twelve dozen times every year in the week leading up the traditional turkey dinner at hers.

“Yes, exactly.” Harry chuckles at the accuracy.

“So… when do I get my other present, then?” He fishes. Harry’d said he wanted to give him it in private rather than at the exchange at his party, so he’d done the same in agreeing to wait. He’s dying to know what it is though, or how it could possibly top the musical birthday surprise.

“You first.” Harry says. “You’ve already gotten something from me, so now it’s your turn to bring me to tears.”

“Don’t expect that, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.” He did get him something nice and thoughtful that he’s certain that Harry will like, but it’s nothing to be blown away by. He wasn’t expecting Harry to go so above and beyond, he’s almost afraid it’s not enough. But Harry is a simple guy, truly a thought-that-counts kind of person.

“You never disappoint me.” Harry says, as if to reinforce the fact.

Louis throws the covers off of them, shivering in the frigid morning air. Diana stirs in her sleep, but only long enough to realize nothing relevant to her concern is happening before she settles back down. Louis hops out of bed and quickly digs around for one of Harry’s oversized jumpers to pull on over his bare chest, smiling at the tackiness of the design; a heavily decorated tree with an actual light-up star on the top. Harry follows his lead, getting up and grabbing something to clothe himself with, but Louis stops him from putting a shirt on.

“Not yet.” He says, smirking, trying too hard not to give the surprise away, yet still wanting to pique his curiosity.

He got him a couple things; a nice cookbook full of recipes for vegan desserts, since he’s been going crazy with baking for the holiday season and hardly able to eat any of it himself. A pair of new boots, identical to the dingy brown pair he owns now, that is riddled with holes and practically falling off his feet.

And Louis’ personal favorite, another ugly festive jumper to add to his collection. He’s been digging around in thrift stores for weeks looking for the perfect unique pattern in just the right size, which turned out to be a deep green, cable-knit thing with candy cane hearts all over. He took it to a tailor to have it altered with their names stitched on it in red and one large candy cane heart centered between them so that it reads HARRY <3’S LOUIS. It’s hideous and tacky and he knows Harry will absolutely adore it.

“Oh my god.” Harry’s entire being lights up when he opens it. He smiles so wide it’s almost criminal, as he pulls it down snugly over his chest and scoops Louis up for a big bear hug. He gives him a swarm of kisses all over his face, which have Louis’ mouth hurting from smiling too hard.

“You’re happy with it, then?” He checks.

“Louis, I love it. It’s perfect.” He beams. “It’s my favorite already. I think I’ll have to wear it year-round, honestly.”

“It looks good on you. I’m glad it fits. I was a bit worried about that.” He muses.

“It’ll look even better on you tomorrow.” Harry counters, knowing Louis is going to dig it out of their shared pile of worn clothes to snuggle up in as soon as possible.

Louis just smiles and kisses him back, aware of the appropriate sea of mistletoe still hanging above their heads. He breaks away quickly when he remembers his gift is next.

“Your turn.” He urges, and Harry worms his way out of their embrace to retirve a simple, thin, blank white envelope from the nightstand.

He quirks an eyebrow, having no idea what could possibly be in it. Harry’s just grinning madly as he hands it to him without a word, anticipating the reaction as Louis quickly tears the thing open and finds something magical inside.

It’s a pair of plane tickets to New York City. There’s no return date.

“These are one way tickets.” Louis notices.

“Yeah. Sorry it’s not Paris. That’s still a bit out of our price range.” Harry waits for it to click.

“Are you asking me to move to New York with you?” His jaw hangs slightly open and Harry simply gives him a slow nod.

“I’m giving you the option to.” He says. “I thought we could go together, just to see it. You can decide how long we stay. If you want to check out some places while we’re there we can, or we can just be tourists for a few days or weeks if you prefer. It’s totally up to you.”

He blinks for a minute, warming to the idea. They could definitely make it happen. They wouldn’t even need a lot of space, he’d be fine with just a small studio apartment somewhere. A shared futon among the clutter of the quirky furniture Harry would surely want to fill it with, the cozy smells of scented candles and homemade meals all around, Diana purring in his lap as the three of them settle into bed together at night. Maybe they could even get lucky enough to find that full glass wall they dreamed up so long ago, when moving to a new place was merely a far off and seemingly impossible idea for the two of them.

He hesitates though, a moment of completely justified panic. Granted, they are already sharing a home, but living alone with someone is a huge leap, even for them.  _Especially_ for them, because things have gotten so terribly messed up before that even though he’s loopy with love for Harry and how far they’ve come together now, he still has to consider the what ifs.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, and Harry nods right away.

“I love you, Louis. So much I want to spend the rest of forever with you, and I want it to start as soon as possible.” He wraps his arms around him, hooks them behind his lower back and rests them there gently, staring piercing green right through him.

“If you’re not sure yet, I understand. That’s why I gave you the choice. Because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, and I just thought I should put it out there for you to consider.”

His heart flutters and he feels kind of dizzy in the head. It’s always been assumed that they both wanted the rest of their futures to include each other, but he’s never heard it put in such concrete words before and now here’s his brilliant, beautiful boyfriend offering him a whole new life. Just him and Harry and their cat(s?) as a happy little family, starting a brand new adventure together.

He’d miss his other family and friends of course, but Skype calls and occasional visits are always possible, and he never intended on staying in his hometown forever anyways. He has always wanted to just drop everything and run away, and it could be everything they’ve ever dreamed of or turn out to be a miserable disaster, but there’s something powerful tugging him in the direction of trying.

“Dammit, Harry.” Louis curses.

“What have I done?” Harry blinks, confused.

“You’ve outshined me again. I thought I got you some really nice gifts, but this is…” Louis hesitates, wondering if there’s a word that even exists for how incredible this boy really can be. “Fuck you. This has been the best holiday ever, and I hate you for it.”

Harry chuckles lightly. “Should I take that a yes, then?”

Louis kisses him quick, but soft and affectionate. “I love you, actually.” He says gently, not wanting to even joke about something like that. “Too much. Of course I’ll go to New York with you. I’d go anywhere with you.”

Harry beams like a madman and it makes Louis feel like he’s a bit tipsy again, on love and life and good feelings and they fall easily into each other for an afternoon of lazy jumper cuddles and I-love-you sex.

He rides a wave of euphoria all day, with the holiday cheer of everyone gathered for their big family meal later, even extended members making an appearance, like Louis’ nan and pop who he looks forward to seeing every year and some of Harry’s aunts and uncles and cousins who flew in for the occasion.

They don’t tell anyone about the move yet. It’s good news for the two of them, but he knows the morale would fall if everyone found out they were leaving soon and he just wants to enjoy the holiday and what little time they have left at home. The tickets are dated for the end of February to give them a bit of time to wrap things up here, and so Harry will be able to spend his birthday with all his loved ones too. Then they can pack everything up and move on together.

He wonders how it’s even possible to think in a language that’s nothing but wordless smiles.

\--

It’s a week from the big move when Louis has another minor breakdown. They’ve been running around nonstop for the past two months, making sure everything goes as smoothly as planned. The majority of what they’re taking with them is already packed into boxes and ready to go, so they’re living out of suitcases and putting in as many hours as they can before their last days to have some extra cash. The stress of that, plus all the little details of what goes into uprooting your life to move across the counrty, combined with having to say goodbye to everyone and all he’s come to love about his home just to take a leap of faith into the unknown, hasn’t made him the most pleasant person to be around lately. He’s exhausted and a bit snappy and on edge, so Harry’s been doing his best to help make it as easy as he can on him, despite that even he’s a bit frantic about it all too. He’s just better at keeping calm than Louis ever will be.

“Babe, come look at this place I just found.” Harry’s sat on the sofa when Louis gets home that night. His legs are stretched out and propped up on the coffee table in front, computer flipped open on his lap, purring lump of snow curled up on the cushion next to him.

They’ve been checking internet listings on and off as the date approaches, hoping to find a few places to start scoping out as soon as they can. The plan is to just relax and enjoy a couple days there first. See the sights, shop around, try some trendy restaurants, take a bunch of pictures and be obvious out-of-towners for a bit. But hotel rooms aren’t much to look at, and they’re both so anxious to just be settled in and starting their new life together that the goal is to be out within a month.

“I’d rather not.” Louis says flatly, hanging his hat and coat on the rack by the door as he’s just gotten off a long shift. It’s astonishing how many people still crave frozen treats in the dead of winter. “I don’t want to think about the move right now. I just need some sleep.”

“You alright?” Harry is instantly concerned.

“Does it fucking sound like it?” Louis grumbles, dragging his feet into the kitchen to fix himself a cuppa to take to bed. He hears some shuffling sounds from the living room as he gets the pot going and moments later, huge hands fall on his shoulders and start a gentle knead.

Louis actually moans at how good it feels, melts and leans into it right away, closing his eyes and letting his head fall lazily down, slowly disarming as Harry turns his body into jelly.

“What’s the matter?” He wants to know, and at this point it’s become second nature for Louis to let him in without a fuss.

“Just stress. Same as you. And worrying.” He says.

“What’s there to worry about?”

“Everything.” Louis breathes a heavy sigh. “What if this doesn’t turn out how we imagine? What if we get there and change our minds, or find out we’re in over our heads and can’t make it work? What if we can’t find a place good enough, or if Diana doesn’t like it? She’s a part of this too.”

“You didn’t even want a cat in the first place, and now you love her like your own daughter.” Harry hums in amusement, distracting him.

“It’s your fault. I never cared this much about animals until you corrupted me.” He pouts.

“Good.” Harry kisses the back of his neck and it sends a shiver down the length of his spine. That, in combination with the massaging is already doing wonders for his mood.

“Your worries are perfectly normal, Lou.” He assures him. “I’m nervous about all that, too.”

“Then how do you manage to be so fucking serene all the damn time?” He snaps, frustration flaring again. Harry doesn’t even flinch anymore whenever he accidentally gets a little harsh with him sometimes. He knows it’s just the monster talking.

“Because it’s not the only thing I concentrate on.” Harry says simply. “I know you can’t help it most of the time, but just try to do your best to focus on the things you _don’t_ have to worry about. Like the fact that we love each other and no matter what happens out there, we’ll be facing it together.”

He nods to himself, trying to get it to stick. No matter what happens, Harry will be right there with him. They've gotten through plenty of shit before, and there's no reason that they can't get through this too.

“If things don’t work out, then it wasn’t meant to be.” Harry soothes, and Louis has never really been the kind of person who believes in things like religion and fate and karma, or that life has some sort of plan etched out for each of the billions of living creatures on Earth, but if there’s anything he does believe in, it’s his boyfriend’s sincerity. “We’ll come back and reset. We can always find somewhere else to go if it’s not for us.”

He sighs in relief this time. He’ll probably never get over his over-thinking habit, the anxiety that easily snowballs from it if he’s not careful. He’s done so good at keeping himself together, and the more he deals with things rather than trying to ignore and sleep them off, the more capable he feels. He isn’t threatened by the idea of his demons coming back to swallow him whole again, even though they still rear their ugly heads from time to time. For the first time since he was diagnosed, he finally feels in control of himself. Or at least as much as he ever will be.

And when things get difficult, he remembers Harry’s words. Through fire and water, he’ll be there to hold him and stand by him no matter how dark it might get sometimes. He knows it now, feels it in every living cell in his body, hasn’t doubted for a moment that moving  _with Harry_  is the right thing to do. It’s only the outside factors plaguing him about it and he’ll always be able to find new things to obsess over, but between their combined efforts in keeping him well, the one thing he does feel is safe and secure, wrapped in Harry’s arms. Just like he always has.

“You’re absolutely right. About all of that. I know I let myself freak out too much sometimes.” Louis admits, effectively calmed to the point of rational thinking again. “Thank you for always reminding me of the important things.”

“You know I’m happy to help however I can.” Harry says.

“I do. Thank you. I love you, Haz.” Louis smiles again, a weak echo of how deep it truly runs.

“Love you too, Lou. Forever and ever and ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've missed hearing from you all lately so please don't hesitate to leave comments for me :) thank you all as usual for reading!


End file.
